3  182202729  1988 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF 


SAN  DIEGO 

^^j«       •     •'  i     i    ••*" ' — ' 


NIVERSITY  OF  CAL'FORNJft 


1988     r 


THE    SISTERS 
OF   THE    SPINNING    WHEEL 


THE   SISTERS 

of  the 

WHEEL 


and  other  Sikh    Toems 
Original  and  Translated 

By 

PUR  AN  SINGH 


With  an  Introduction 

by 
ERNEST  &  GRACE  RHTS 


1921 

LONDON   y    TORONTO 
J.    M.    DENT  &   SONS  LTD. 
NEW  YORK:  E.  P.  DUTTON  6f  CO. 


All  rights  reserved 


INTRODUCTION 

I 

THIS  book  of  Puran  Singh's  poems  is  the  latest  offspring 
from  a  famous  old  root.  It  is  founded  on  the  Granth 
Sahib,  and  most  of  the  songs  that  follow  are  in  one 
way  or  another  derived  from  that  inspired  book,  which 
has  sometimes  been  called  the  Sikh  Bible.  But  as  that 
is  the  youngest  of  the  bibles,  so  these  songs  and  lyrics 
are  re-charged,  we  shall  find,  by  the  spirit  of  youth  in 
poesy.  It  may  be  that  the  ideas,  images  and  figurative 
expressions  in  these  poems  are  often  openly  borrowed, 
and  a  fairly  close  transcript  of  certain  passages  may 
even  at  times  be  given.  But  whether  the  rendering 
be  close  or  free,  the  religious  emotion  is  always  in 
essence  the  same,  and  it  is  always  authentic.  It  runs 
right  through  the  songs  from  beginning  to  end,  and 
no  reader  can  fail  to  be  touched  by  its  sincerity,  grace 
and  fervour, 

English  versions  of  the  Granth  Sahib  have  already 
been  given  to  the  public  in  the  six  volumes  of  Mr. 
M.  A.  Macauliffe's  remarkable  work  on  The  Sikh 
Religion,  and  with  his  versions  any  reader  who  likes 
can  compare  Mr.  Puran  Singh's  poems,  and  will  find 
the  comparison  most  interesting.  In  The  Sisters  of 
the  Spinning  Wheel  we  have  a  living  emotional  verse 
that  conveys  the  ecstatic  mood  of  the  original,  while  it 


vi         SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

adds  a  new  impulse  to  the  old  one.  In  the  other  work 
we  have  a  series  of  careful  scholarly  translations, 
faithfully  rendering  the  Indian  texts. 

It  was  Rabindranath  Tagore  who  carried  over  into 
the  English  tongue  with  a  new  power  and  melody  the 
first  convincing  strains  of  Bengali  poetry.  Puran  Singh 
has  fortunately  something  of  the  same  gift,  and  his 
music  too  freely  naturalises  itself  in  the  English  medium 
and  makes  good  its  accent,  and  one  soon  becomes  aware 
of  its  living  charm.  Later,  the  spirit  of  his  poetry  is 
seen  to  involve  a  rare  sense  of  delight  in  devotion,  and 
the  closer  thought  one  brings  to  bear  upon  it  the 
profounder  its  effect.  All  the  evidences  of  a  high 
spiritual  ancestry  are  joined  to  the  fine  pageantry 
of  the  Eastern  world  that  glows  in  the  page. 

The  figured  reality  in  this  pageant  carries  us  far, 
and  uses  vivid  symbolism,  to  interpret  the  region  of  its 
imagination.  The  set  symbol  is  the  key  to  an  ever 
widening  world.  The  songs  that  open  this  fair  region 
to  us  we  may  call  parable,  or  picture,  poems;  and 
we  shall  find  in  reading  them,  that  their  mode  often 
recalls  that  of  other  parable-makers.  It  was  the  method 
of  many  Eastern  teachers;  nay,  was  it  not  the  method 
consecrated  by  Christ  himself  ? 

In  other  poems  like  "  Simran,"  on  the  other  hand, 
the  thought,  the  inner  ecstasy,  is  directly  expressed 
without  any  aid  to  the  imagination,  without  any  ascent 
from  the  real  to  prepare  the  approach.  And  these  we 
may  term  songs  of  worship. 

No  doubt  some  unevenness  of  workmanship  was 
bound  to  result  from  this  double  method.  It  was  at 
first  thought  it  might  be  wiser  to  divide  the  poems 


INTRODUCTION  vii 

into  two  definite  groups;  but  afterwards  it  was  felt 
that  the  very  irregularity  lent  a  certain  charm  to  the 
sequence:  something  like  that  which  we  find  in  a 
necklace  of  gems  of  different  values,  colours,  shapes 
and  sizes,  strung  on  the  one  golden  thread. 

Perhaps  the  only  serious  difficulty  that  will  be  felt 
by  the  Western  reader  in  understanding  Puran  Singh's 
book  is  the  obscurity  caused  by  the  identification  of  the 
Guru,  the  earthly  Master  or  teacher  with  the  Almighty 
Father,  the  Guru  Who  is  above  all.  The  same  word  is 
often  used  for  both.  The  passion  of  love  for  the  Master 
who  in  himself  unites  God  and  man  is  expressed  in  a 
hundred  ways  throughout  the  book — most  memorably 
in  the  remarkable  poem,  "  A  Turbanned  Man." 

This  passion  melts  by  degrees  into  the  adoration  of 
the  Eternal  One,  and  bound  up  with  the  worship  of 
the  spirit  of  God  incarnate  in  the  Guru,  the  Master  and 
Teacher,  is  the  worship  of  the  Name  of  God.  It  is 
believed  that  an  entrance  into  the  presence  and  the 
heart  of  God  can  be  made  by  the  use  of  the  symbol  of 
his  Name — the  key,  as  it  were,  that  admits  us  into 
his  kingdom.  This  is  that  NAM,  which  will  be  found 
throughout  the  book.  Nam  stands  both  for  the  name 
of  God,  and  for  the  union  with  God,  to  be  attained  by 
the  devout  repetition  of  His  name.  It  is  akin  to  the 
"  calling  upon  God "  mentioned  in  our  own  Bible. 
The  word  Nam  is  an  old  Sanskrit  word  and  is  actually 
the  same  as  our  "name";  the  Latin  no  men  and  the 
Greek  ovo//,a  come  from  the  same  root.  All  through  the 
book  Nam,  the  Name,  is  used  as  the  Symbol  of  God, 
exactly  as  Aoyos,  the  Word,  occurs  in  the  Gospel  of 
St.  John.  "  And  the  Word  was  with  God,  and  the  Word 


viii      SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

was  God."  In  the  poem  called  "  Guru  Nanak  "  we 
find  it  written :  "  It  is  true  for  us  for  ever,  God 
himself  cometh  to  man  in  the  shape  of  Man  who 
spells  Him  for  us:  this  is  Nam.  He  is  the  sign  and 
symbol." 

The  poem  called  "  Nam,  the  Name  of  the  Infinite  " 
needs  to  be  specially  studied  in  relation  to  this  divine 
invocation.  Also  the  poem  "  Guru  Nanak  "  already 
mentioned,  for  that  touches  another  difficulty  that 
may  affect  Western  readers — the  passing  of  Spirit 
from  one  Guru  or  Prophet-Teacher  of  the  Sikhs  to 
another.  This  poem  reminds  one  (though  with  a  differ- 
ence) of  the  Hebrew  pedigree  chants.  It  is  a  poetic 
recital  of  the  descent  of  prophetic  inspiration  through 
the  great  leaders  of  the  Sikh  religion.  So  the  Christian 
plenary  inspiration,  we  may  recall,  was  supposed  to 
descend  through  the  apostles.  In  the  case  of  the  Sikhs, 
however,  the  succession  depended  not  on  any  direct 
election,  but  on  a  sort  of  spiritual  elective  fatherhood 
in  each  succeeding  Guru,  very  much  as,  in  our  Bible, 
the  Mantle  of  Elijah  fell  upon  Elisha.  Into  each  new 
Guru  passed  the  spirit  of  him  that  was  gone;  each 
Guru  in  turn  added  to  the  Scriptures,  if  that  special 
gift  were  his. 

II 

Until  recent  years,  when  Mr.  Macauliffe's  work 
appeared,  most  of  us  were  ignorant  of  the  life  and 
literature  of  the  Sikhs.  They  were  a  people  welded 
together  by  no  community  of  blood  or  race,  but  were 
at  first  solely  a  religious  community:  afterwards  a 


INTRODUCTION  ix 

religious  and  propertied  community,  and  finally  by 
virtue  of  a  curious  necessity  a  sect  as  military  as 
religious.  The  founder  of  the  sect  was  a  simple  village 
lad,  called  Nanak,  born  at  Talwandi  in  the  Lahore 
district  of  the  P«njaub,  A.D.  1469. 

Nanak  was  a  strange  boy;  he  existed  in  the  remote 
world  of  his  own  thought  and  imagination.  He  was 
the  despair  of  his  parents  as  many  another  dreaming 
incomprehensible  child  has  been.  He  grew  up  sur- 
rounded by  the  usual  picturesque  beliefs  and  symbolic 
worships  common  to  all  primitive  peoples  in  an  earlier 
world.  Almost  from  his  cradle  he  seemed  to  take  his 
own  way.  He  lived,  as  he  grew  up,  detached  from  the 
religious  practices  that  went  on  about  him.  A  pretty 
fable  is  told  of  his  boyhood.  He  was  sent  out  one 
Monday  by  his  parents  to  herd  some  buffaloes  on  the 
plain,  and  he  lay  down  under  the  shadow  of  a  tree  and 
soon  became  lost  in  his  own  thoughts.  The  herd 
wandered  away:  he  never  moved.  In  the  late  after- 
noon the  villagers  came  out  to  look  for  him;  and  there 
he  lay,  reflecting  silently:  but  behold  the  tree  still  cast 
its  morning  shadow  over  the  young  saint's  head.  It 
had  never  moved  with  the  moving  sun. 

Whether  the  shadow  moved  or  not  is  quite  immaterial. 
The  true  miracle  was  the  young  lad's  thought  beneath 
the  tree.  He  had  to  think  himself  out  of  ignorance, 
out  of  idol-worship  and  sacrifice,  out  of  bigotry  and 
prejudice,  out  of  the  stony  prison  of  caste,  out  of  every 
chain  ever  forged  by  his  fellow  men  to  enslave  the  mind. 
In  the  end,  he  achieved  a  perfect  freedom.  He  dis- 
covered for  himself  the  religion  of  love,  of  union  with 
the  spirit  of  God;  the  universal  religion  which  is 


x         SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

being  slowly  welded  together  out  of  the  chaos  of  men's 
diverse  imaginings.  Nanak's  religion,  framed  in  utter 
loneliness,  face  to  face  with  the  God  in  nature  and  the 
God  in  his  own  soul,  is  the  religion  of  many  Western 
thinkers  to-day  because  it  realises  the  central  truth 
that  is  at  the  basis  of  all  religion. 

The  village  of  Talwandi  was  surrounded  by  forests; 
Nanak  who  was  already  a  poet  passed  much  of  his 
time  there.  After  various  unsuccessful  attempts  to 
earn  his  own  living,  he  went  as  storekeeper  to  the 
governor  of  Sultanpur.  To  the  astonishment  of  every- 
one he  proved  to  be  a  jewel  among  store-keepers.  He 
rose  before  dawn,  bathed  and  prayed,  and  came  like 
a  fresh  spirit  of  grace  to  weigh  out  salt  and  seed  and 
tummeric  and  pepper.  In  justice  and  courtesy  he  was 
the  same  to  rich  and  poor.  He  lived  sparingly  and  all 
the  money  he  received  he  gave  to  those  who  were  in 
want.  Mardana  the  rebeck-player  came  to  him  out 
of  Talwandi:  and  when  Mardana  played  one  of  the 
thirty-one  measures  Nanak  would  sing  to  it  one  of  his 
own  songs  full  of  wisdom  and  strange  meaning.  Such 
a  store-keeper  never  was  and  all  men  spoke  well  of 
him  and  depended  upon  him.  But  the  saints  are  in- 
calculable folk:  one  day  Nanak  disappeared  into  the 
forest.  There  during  three  days  and  nights  he  had  a 
new  and  deeper  vision  of  God;  when  he  came  forth 
again  his  store-keeping  was  over.  Henceforth  he  was 
to  be  a  dealer  in  the  lives  of  men,  the  founder  not  only 
of  a  religion  but  of  a  people.  With  Mardana  he  wandered 
through  India  chanting  his  strange  new  songs  to  the 
old  measures  of  Indian  music.  Carried  on  the  familiar 
sounds  and  rhythms,  the  new  meanings  glided  into 


INTRODUCTION  xi 

the  understandings  of  the  people  and  captured  them 
before  they  were  aware. 

His  chief  message  was  the  joy  of  pure  union  with  the 
spirit  of  God.  His  second  was  the  equality  of  all  men 
and  women  before  God.  He  preached  universal  brother- 
hood; he  often  reminds  one  of  Walt  Whitman  in  his 
feeling  for  the  greatness  of  the  people,  and  at  times 
by  the  very  rhythm  of  his  prophetic  verse.  But  it  was 
no  free  people  to  whom  Nanak  addressed  himself. 
Not  even  in  the  Byzantine  Empire  were  the  partitions 
of  caste  as  strong  as  in  India,  where  like  iron  walls 
they  divided  the  different  classes.  With  deed  and 
piercing  word  Nanak  attacked  these  powerful  Taboos. 

On  coming  to  Saiyidhpur  he  went  to  stay  in  the  house 
of  a  just  man,  a  carpenter  called  Lalo.  People  cried 
out  upon  him  because  Lalo  was  of  lower  caste  than  his. 
Nanak  took  no  notice  and  continued  to  eat  with  Lalo 
instead  of  in  a  separate  place  by  himself.  Soon  after 
a  rich  and  powerful  man,  Malik,  gave  a  great  feast; 
Nanak  refused  to  go.  Malik  ordered  him  to  be  brought  be- 
fore him  and  reproved  him  for  his  double  offence.  Nanak 
then  asked  Malik  for  a  piece  of  his  bread  arid  sent  Lalo 
for  a  piece  of  his.  Nanak  then  took  a  piece  of  Lalo's 
coarse  bread  in  his  right  hand  and  a  piece  of  Malik's 
fine  white  bread  in  his  left.  He  squeezed  them  both. 
From  Lalo's  bread  there  issued  milk,  from  Malik's 
came  forth  blood;  the  interpretation  of  which  is  that 
Nanak  pronounced  the  bread  of  the  carpenter  pure, 
that  of  the  rich  man  stained  by  oppression  and  cruelty. 
So  fearless  was  Nanak!  Small  wonder  that  his  Sikhs 
for  hundreds  of  years  have  proved  themselves  bravest 
of  the  brave.  But  no  valour  in  battle  can  equal  the 


xii        SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

courage  of   Nanak    when   he    refused   to   sit  and   eat 
unclean  bread  at  the  rich  man's  table. 

On  another  day  he  attacked  the  pride  of  caste  shown 
by  the  Brahmans.  When  a  Brahman  wants  to  eat  he 
draws  a  square  upon  the  ground  and  makes  his  cooking 
place  within  the  lines,  and  thus  comfortably  entrenched 
eats  his  meal.  Wanting  some  lighted  brands  for  his 
own  cooking,  Nanak  stepped  within  a  Brahman's 
cooking  square  and  helped  himself.  The  Brahman 
loudly  objected  and  complained  that  Nanak  had  defiled 
his  food.  Nanak,  who  knew  what  sort  of  man  the  Brah- 
man was,  answered  that  it  had  already  been  denied. 
And  he  spoke  these  lines : 

Evil  mindedness  is  a  low  woman,  cruelty  a  butcher's  wife,  a. 

slanderous  heart  a  sweeper  woman,  wrath  which  ruineth 

the  .world,  a  pariah  woman. 
What   availeth  thee  to  have   drawn  the   lines  of  thy  cooking 

place  when  these  four  are  seated  within  at  the  meal  with 

thee? 

Nanak  was  an  artist  as  well  as  a  reformer.  His  weapon 
was  verse  of  terrible  force,  delightfully  chanted  to 
familiar  rhythms  that  lived  in  the  people's  ears.  Many 
oddly  invented  miracles  are  recounted  of  him,  but 
what  miracle  could  be  more  astonishing  than  the 
immortalising  of  that  Brahman  and  the  four  terrible 
guests  within  his  sanctimonious  cooking-square  by  the 
peasant  boy  from  the  forest  land  of  Talwandi  ? 

Although  he  knew  how  to  be  severe  he  was  seldom  so. 
He  had  a  charming  way  with  him,  and  learnt  how  to 
turn  men  from  their  hardest  purposes  and  make  them 
his  reverent  disciples.  As  an  illustration  of  this  method 
one  might  tell  of  the  very  rich  Duni  Chand  who  asked 
the  Guru  to  his  house  and  treated  him  with  much 


INTRODUCTION  xiii 

affection.  Nanak  noticed  that  the  house  was  stuck  over 
with  flags,  and  when  he  inquired  what  they  might  mean 
he  was  told  that  each  flag  stood  for  a  lakh  of  rupees 
that  the  master  had  gained.  Nanak  then  politely 
handed  Duni  a  needle  and  bade  him  keep  it  until  he 
asked  for  it  in  the  next  world.  The  foolish  Duni  took 
the  needle  to  his  wife  and  told  her  to  put  it  by.  "  How 
can  a  needle  enter  the  next  world,  said  she.  "  Go  and 
return  it  to  the  Guru."  Duni  Chand  carried  his  wife's 
message  to  the  Guru,  who  said:  "  If  such  a  small 
and  light  thing  as  a  needle  cannot  go  to  the  next  world, 
how  can  thy  wealth  reach  there  ?  "  Duni  Chand  fell 
at  his  feet  and  prayed  to  know  how  his  wealth  might 
accompany  him.  Nanak  answered,  "  Give  some  of  it 
in  God's  name,  feed  the  poor  and  that  portion  shall 
accompany  thee." 

After  this  Duni  became  his  disciple  and  learned  of  him. 

In  common  with  all  the  great  Saints  of  the  Celtic 
and  other  Churches  we  find  in  Nanak  a  passionate  love 
for  nature  and  the  open  sky.  When  asked  by  the 
Brahmans  to  worship  in  their  magnificent  temple, 
Nanak  composed  one  of  his  noblest  poems  by  way  of 
answer.  Here  are  two  verses  of  it : 

The  sun  and  moon,  O  Lord,  are  Thy  lamps,  the  firmament  Thy 
salver;  the  orbs  of  the  stars  the  pearls  enchased  in  it; 

The  perfume  of  the  sandal  is  Thine  incense;  the  wind  is  Thy 
fan;  all  the  forests  are  Thy  flowers,  O  Lord  of  Light. 

Puran  Singh's  version  of  this  poem  will  be  found  on 
a  later  page. 

It  is  a  poem  much  venerated  in  the  original  and  often 
translated.  It  is,  however,  as  difficult  to  translate  as  one 
of  Heine's  lyrics,  or  a  mediaeval  Welsh  ode.  For  the 


xiv       SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

"benefit  of  those  who  care  to  study  this  famous  poem 
more  closely  let  us  add  that  in  the  temple  of  Vishnu 
or  Jugannath  lamps  were  lit  for  the  evening  worship, 
and  offerings  made  on  salvers  studded  with  pearls. 
Flowers  and  incense  were  placed  on  the  salvers,  fans 
were  used  to  make  the  incense  burn.  The  whole 
ceremonial  was  gorgeous,  but  Nanak  worshipped  best 
under  the  open  sky. 

Nanak  was  strangely  gifted:  there  can  be  no  doubt 
that  in  addition  to  the  powerful  brain,  the  warm  heart, 
the  poet's  tongue,  and  the  many  spiritual  gifts  which 
were  his,  the  hypnotic  faculty  was  added  as  well. 
Numberless  miracles  grew  up  about  his  personality: 
among  them  are  indisputable  facts,  natural  miracles 
that  could  only  have  been  brought  about  by  powers  of 
unusual  quality. 

He  foretold  the  coming  of  the  terrible  Babar  who 
laid  waste  the  north  of  India;  and  more  especially  the 
destruction  of  Sayidhpur. 

Bringing  a  wedding  procession  of  sin,  Babar  hath  hasted  from 
Kabul  and  demandeth  wealth  as  his  bride. 

Soon  afterwards  Babar  took  and  destroyed  the  city 
of  Saiyidhpur  where  Nanak  was  staying.  All  the  country 
far  and  wide  was  devastated  and  the  people,  both  Hindu 
and  Mussulman,  were  massacred.  Nanak  was  imprisoned 
at  first  and  then  set  to  carrying  loads  as  a  slave.  One 
day  when  carrying  a  bundle  on  his  head,  he  met  his 
disciple  Mardana,  now  serving  his  new  masters  as  groom 
and  leading  a  horse.  They  walked  together  a  little  way 
and  then  there  passed  by  a  little  company  of  women, 
slaves  of  the  conquerors,  weeping  and  wailing  aloud 
in  their  misery.  Mardana  asked  his  master  what  ailed 


INTRODUCTION  xv 

them.  "  Take  your  rebeck  and  play  a  tune  for  me,*' 
said  the  Master,  "  and  I  will  sing  to  you  the  meaning 
of  their  woe." 

"  I  cannot  play  the  rebeck,"  said  Mardana,  "  for 
I  must  use  both  my  hands  to  hold  this  horse."  "  Say 
the  Glory  to  God;  let  go  the  bridle  and  play,"  said  the 
Master.  Mardana  obeyed,  and  the  horse  followed  of 
its  own  will  behind  while  the  master  sang  to  the  rebeck 
the  famous  lament: 

They  whcf.wore  beautiful  tresses  and  the  partings  of  whose 

hair  were  touched  with  vermilion, 
Have  their  locks  now  shorn  with  the  scissors:    dust  is  thrown 

upon  their  heads. 

Now  chains  are  on  their  necks  and  broken  are  their  strings  of 
•     pearls. 

One  of  the  terrible  Babar's  officers  saw  the  two  as 
they  went  along,  making  music  while  the  horse  followed 
behind.  Above  Nanak's  head  hung  his  burden  suspended 
in  the  air.  When  the  emperor  heard  of  this  strange 
spectacle  he  said  that  had  he  known  that  such  holy 
men  lived  in  the  city  he  would  not  have  destroyed  it. 
In  the  end  he  bowed  himself  before  Nanak  the  slave 
and  granted  him  the  lives  of  his  captives  and  clothed 
them  in  robes  of  honour.  Such  are  the  undoubted 
miracles  worked  by  the  saint.  Only  the  floating  bundle 
appears  apocryphal,  though  it  should  be  said  such 
strange  appearances  can  be  produced  in  India  to-day 
by  magicians  who  have  that  particular  faculty. 

Nanak  had  a  noble  conception  of  women  and  stood 
as  their  defenders  against  the  contempt  so  often  poured 
upon  them  by  weaker  men.  He  was  especially  a  liberator. 
The  Brahmans  forbade  the  instruction  of  all  women 


xvi       SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

and  of  men  of  low  caste  in  their  Scriptures  Religion 
was  for  the  ruling  male  alone.  In  the  words  of  Guru 
Amar  Das:  "  Guru  Nanak  composed  his  hymns  in  the 
language  of  the  people  and  wrote  them  in  the  ordinary 
characters  so  that  men  and  women  of  all  castes  and 
classes  might  read  and  understand  them." 

Natural  and  simple  in  all  things,  the  Sikh  religion 
allowed  marriage;  most  of  the  Gurus  had  one  wife  or 
none.  The  veiling  and  immuring  of  women  was  strictly 
forbidden  by  them.  A  Guru  was  once  visited  by  the 
emperor's  wives:  only  one,  the  youngest,  kept  her  face 
veiled.  "  Mad  Lady,"  said  the  Guru,  "  If  thou  likest 
not  the  Guru's  face  wherefore  are  thou  come  hither  to 
gaze  upon  him  ?  "  And  the  young  woman  immediately 
became  mad  and  ran  to  the  forest  casting  away  her 
raiment,  till  presently  healed  by  the  Guru.  Nowhere 
is  it  suggested  in  the  Sikh  scriptures  that  a  woman's 
God  is  her  husband.  On  the  contrary  the  Gurus  directed 
the  woman's  thoughts  upward  to  the  worship  of  the 
one  true  God.  It  is  told  of  Guru  Teg  Bahadur  that 
knowing  that  a  Matron  of  Dhaka  had  long  earnestly 
desired  to  see  him,  he  set  out  alone  to  her  house.  He 
called  to  her  from  outside  and  she  was  overjoyed  and 
ran  to  meet  him  and  prostrated  herself  at  his  feet.  Then 
she  led  him  in,  seated  him  on  a  beautiful  couch  she 
had  prepared,  dressed  him  in  cloth  spun  and  woven 
by  herself,  and  gave  him  a  fine  meal  prepared  by  her 
own  hands.  The  Guru  told  her  to  ask  a  favour;  she 
answered  that  all  she  wished  was  to  remain  ever  near 
him.  He  answered  that  she  might  behold  him  when- 
ever, after  bathing,  she  deeply  meditated  on  God, 
directed  her  love  to  His  lotus  feet  and  repeated  His 


INTRODUCTION  xvii 

true  name.  There  is  a  difference  in  this  point  between 
the  atmosphere  of  the  Granth  Sahib  and  that  of  Puran 
Singh's  book.  The  emotions  are  softer  and  more  sensuous 
in  the  latter,  the  flavour  of  the  poems  is  more  Eastern, 
less  modern. 

Nanak  laid  great  stress  upon  one  point,  upon  which 
most  of  us,  to-day,  are  in  agreement.  "  Whoever," 
says  he,  "  a  watch  before  day,  bathes  in  cold  water  and 
repeats  God's  name  with  love  and  devotion,  shall 
receive  nectar  at  God's  door  and  be  blended  with  him 
who  is  unborn  and  self -existent." 

Of  caste  he  says: 

I  have  reduced  my  inind  to  the  caste  of  fire  and  wind. 

A  most  memorable  saying. 

Of  the  troubles  of  the  world  he  says : 

There  are  continual  showers,  squalls  and  threats;    hundreds  of 

thousands  of  waves  succeed  one  another, 
Address  the  True  God  and  there  shall  be  no  fear  that  thy  boat 

shall  go  down. 

He  also  says: 

Abide  pure  among  the  impurities  of  this  world — so  shalt  thou 
find  the  way  of  religion. 

A  pious  priest  of  Lahore  brought  Arjan  a  poem 
abusing  women  which  began : 

Look  thou  not  on  woman  even  though  she  be  cut  out  of  paper, 

to  be  included  in  the  Granth  Sahib.  Arjan  refused  it, 
saying  Nanak  had  said  home  life  was  the  best  of  all. 

The  end  of  Guru  Nanak  was  in  keeping  with  his  life. 
When  it  was  known  that  he  must  die,  he  appointed 
Guru  Angad  as  his  successor.    He  continued  to  teach 
B 


xviii     SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

his  simple  and  profound  lessons  to  the  crowds  who 
visited  him.  His  Mussulman  followers  begged  for  leave 
to  bury  him;  his  Hindus  wanted  to  cremate  him. 
The  Guru  said,  "  Let  the  Hindus  place  flowers  on  my 
right,  and  the  Mussulmans  on  my  left.  They  whose 
flowers  are  found  fresh  in  the  morning  may  do  what 
they  will  with  my  body." 

Then  the  Master  told  them  to  sing  the  noble  psalm 
which  ends: 

Remember  the  Caller:  the  day  is  approaching 
— and  then  the  couplet: 

They  who  have  pondered  on  the  Name  of  God  and  departed 

after  the  completion  of  their  toil 
Shall  have  their  countenances  made  bright;    how  many  shall 

be  set  free  in  company  with  them ! 

The  Master  then  drew  the  sheet  over  his  head,  uttered 
the  "  Glory  to  God  "  and  made  obeisance  to  Him  and 
blended  his  light  with  Guru  Angad's. 

When  the  sheet  was  lifted  next  morning  there  was 
nothing  found  beneath  it.  The  flowers  on  both  sides 
were  in  bloom. 

Such  was  the  founder  of  the  Sikh  religion  and  such  the 
manner  of  its  founding.  There  were  in  all  ten  prophets 
in  this  strange  dynasty.  The  first  three  teachers  were 
quietists;  men  who  were  lovers  of  God  and  lovers 
of  freedom — Nanak,  Angad,  and  Amar  Das. 

Guru  Angad  was  the  beloved  disciple  of  Nanak.  When 
Guru  Nanak  died  so  great  was  Angad's  grief  that  he 
went  and  lived  alone  in  a  little  hut  for  six  months. 
When  his  Sikhs  came  to  find  him,  his  love  and  his 


INTRODUCTION  xix 

sorrow  got  the  better  of  his  piety  and  he  repeated  aloud 
the  following  sl5k,  or  couplet : 

Die  before  the  dear  one  thou  lovest 

To  live  after  him  in  the  world  is  a  curse  to  life. 

He  then  took  his  seat  as  Guru  among  the  people  and 
taught  and  explained  Nanak's  hymns.  He  used  the 
changing  play  of  the  life  about  him  as  material  for  his 
teaching.  When  watching  the  children  at  play  he  would 
tell  his  Sikhs  they  should  be  as  pure  and  simple  in  heart 
as  children,  and  then  would  they  be  dear  to  their 
Creator.  He  used  sometimes  to  watch  the  wrestling 
matches  in  the  early  afternoons  and  there  he  would 
talk  to  the  lookers-on,  telling  them  how  they  might 
overcome  anger  and  other  deadly  sins. 

Presently  a  disciple  came  to  him  upon  whom  the 
mantle  of  the  leadership  of  the  Sikhs  was  to  descend. 
This  was  Amar  Das,  born  in  the  year  1479.  He  was 
a  youth  of  gentle  mind,  who  had  a  natural  insight 
into  the  truth  of  things,  and  found  himself  therefore 
lonely  in  life;  he  longed  for  a  religious  teaching  to 
fit  his  particular  need,  but  could  find  no  saint  to  his 
mind.  "  How  can  the  lotus  bloom  without  sight  of  the 
sun,"  he  asked,  "  and  how  can  a  man  get  salvation 
without  a  teacher  ?  "  He  was  sunk  more  and  more  in 
sadness  when  one  morning  early  he  heard  a  sweet  voice 
sing  a  beautiful  chant.  This  was  the  voice  of  Guru 
Angad's  young  daughter  who  had  lately  married  Amar 
Das's  nephew.  This  girl  used  to  get  up  a  watch  before 
daybreak,  bathe,  chant  the  hymns  of  Guru  Nanak, 
and  then  make  butter  for  the  family.  Heavenly  butter 
it  must  have  been,  made  by  so  sweet  a  saint. 

Amar  Das  went  to  the  girl  and  asked  her  to  sing  her 


song  again.  She  did  so  and  then  taught  it  him,  telling 
him  of  her  father  Angad  and  of  Guru  Nanak  and  his 
faith.  Presently  the  two  set  out  together  to  find  Angad 
and  on  seeing  him  Amar  Das  fell  at  his  feet. 

Guru  Angad  set  himself  to  destroy  superstition  in 
Amar  Das.  He  taught  him,  for  this  reason,  to  eat  meat 
when  it  was  set  before  him.  "  If  you  think  of  it,"  said 
the  Guru,  "  there  is  life  in  everything,  even  in  fruits 
and  flowers.  Whatever  you  eat,  eat  remembering  God 
and  it  shall  be  profitable  to  you.  Whatever  comes  to 
you  without  hurting  a  fellow  creature  is  nectar:  what- 
ever you  receive  by  giving  pain  is  poison."  When  Amar 
Das  showed  irritation  with  an  impostor,  the  Guru 
rebuked  him,  saying — "  Thou  shouldst  have  endurance 
like  the  earth,  steadfastness  in  trouble  and  in  happiness 
like  a  mountain.  Thou  shouldst  be  humble,  for  the 
humble  shall  ever  be  exalted.  Behold  how  precious  even 
the  smallest  diamonds  are.  The  pearl  is  small,  but 
consider  its  price,"  meaning  thereby  that  even  the 
humblest  saint  has  a  certain  exquisite  quality. 

With  the  fourth  teacher,  Ram  Das,  a  change  began 
to  creep  in.  The  Sikhs  had  increased  in  numbers;  they 
were  beginning  to  group  themselves  together;  to  be- 
come a  people.  Ram  Das  founded  the  Golden  Temple 
of  Amritsar.  He  planned  out  the  Sacred  Bathing  Pool 
from  whose  waters  Amritsar  (Essence  of  Nectar)  takes 
its  name. 

Under  Ram  Das  the  Sikhs  were  become  a  people 
possessing  property  and  an  organisation.  The  quality 
of  their  profession  of  religion  began  now  to  be  subtly 
altered.  Under  Guru  Arjan,  the  Tank  and  the  Temple 
of  Amritsar  were  finished.  So  terribly  had  the  Sikhs 


INTRODUCTION  xxi 

to  labour  over  this  work  that  it  is  said  that  when  Arjan 
saw  the  state  of  their  bodies  he  fairly  wept.  Arjan  was 
a  poet  and  a  mystic.  He  had  a  creative  mind:  by  him 
and  for  him  the  Grantb  Sahib  was  compiled  and  all  the 
scattered  songs  and  sayings  of  the  Gurus  were  written 
down.  He  was  bold  also  and  independent :  therefore  he 
was  to  discover  some  of  the  disabilities  that  attach  to 
the  gathering  and  keeping  of  property. 

Jealousy  and  covetousness  brought  him  enemies 
who  used  the  power  of  the  Emperor  Jahanjir  against 
him.  He  was  ordered  to  pay  a  fine,  which  he  refused 
to  do,  saying  all  his  money  was  for  the  service  of 
the  poor.  An  attack  was  also  made  upon  him  by  the 
religious,  among  both  Hindus  and  the  Mohammedans, 
because  of  the  unorthodoxy  of  the  Granth  Sahib.  They 
worked  to  inflame  the  mind  of  the  emperor  against  him 
and  he  was  ordered  to  alter  or  erase  certain  hymns, 
as  well  as  to  pay  the  fine.  He  was  put  to  the  torture. 
He  bore  the  torture  of  burning  and  boiling  water  and 
the  hot  cauldron  with  unfailing  firmness.  One  of  the 
last  poems  he  recited  was  as  follows : 

Dear  God,  merciful,  joyous; 

Deep,  profound,  endless,  sustainer  of  the  earth; 

Lofty  unfathomable  eternal  Lord, 

I  live  by  remembering  Thee. 

His  dying  counsels  which  he  bade  the  Sikhs  carry  to 
his  son  and  successor  Har  Gobind  were  significant: 
Let  him  sit  armed  on  his  throne  and  keep  up  an  army 
as  best  he  can. 

Accordingly  while  the  first  four  Gurus  or  prophets  of 
the  Sikhs  are  represented  as  peaceful  men,  bearded  and 
comely,  sitting  upon  cushions  with  adoring  disciples 


xxii       SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

about  them,  Har  Gobind  is  drawn  as  a  warrior,  seated 
on  his  battle  steed,  a  sword  by  his  side.  After  the  year 
1606,  being  that  of  Arjan's  martyrdom,  the  Sikh  reli- 
gion became  subtly  altered  from  its  ancient  direction. 
The  Sikhs  had  found  (what  is  ever  the  case  all  over  the 
world,  among  animals  as  well  as  among  men)  that 
property  of  every  kind  must  be  defended  by  armed 
force. 

Even  the  existence  of  a  book  like  the  Granth  Sahib 
was  an  offence  to  those  that  thought  differently. 
Exactly  aa  the  inoffensive  Armenians  were  a  prey  to 
the  Turks,  so  were  Arjan  and  his  people  a  mark  for  their 
armed  neighbours.  Therefore  Har  Gobind  became  a 
fighting  man.  He  showed  himself  a  chivalrous  leader; 
much  after  the  fashion  of  our  Christian  knights  who 
knew  mercy  but  never  fear.  Under  Har  Gobind  and 
his  successors,  the  Sikhs  grew  in  number  and  power. 
Under  Teg  Bahadur,  the  ninth  prophet  and  leader  of 
the  Sikhs,  the  question  of  resistance  to  oppression 
became  more  acute. 

It  was  from  the  West  that  the  oppressors  of  India 
came  in  ever  succeeding  floods.  The  Moslems  that 
pressed  upon  Europe  from  the  East,  poured  back  over 
India  from  Syria  and  Gabul  and  Kandahar.  Cruel  as 
were  these  Moslems  to  the  Christians,  they  were  far 
worse  to  the  Hindus,  whose  idols  they  abhorred.  From 
Shahab-ul-Din  (A.D.  1170)  to  Aurungzeb  (1680)  it  is 
one  tale  of  woe.  Hundreds  of  gorgeous  Hindu  temples 
were  razed  to  the  ground.  Massacres  were  common, 
gold,  silver,  and  jewels  were  robbed  systematically. 
One  emperor  had  twenty  thousand  Hindu  maidens 
in  his  harem.  Probably  the  most  striking  example  of 


INTRODUCTION  xxiii 

religious  intolerance  in  the  history  of  the  human  race 
was  the  method  adopted  by  the  Emperor  Firoz  Shah. 
When  he  destroyed  the  city  of  Bhilsa  he  razed  all  the 
Hindu  temples  to  the  ground,  carried  away  their  idols 
and  had  them  placed  in  front  of  his  fort  where  every 
day  they  were  bathed  in  the  blood  of  a  thousand  Hindus. 
The  emperors  had  no  objection  to  the  religion  of  the 
Sikhs  but  they  could  not  tolerate  their  brave  and 
independent  bearing.  Under  the  Emperor  Babar, 
Nanak  was  enslaved.  Now,  under  Teg  Bahadur,  a 
terrible  enemy  to  the"^  Sikhs  had  newly  arisen  in  the 
person  of  the  Emperor  Aurungzebf,  who  determined 
to  convert  all  men  within  his  reach  to  Islamism.  Torture, 
robbery  and  murder,  the  usual  methods  of  the  tyrant, 
were  freely  resorted  to.  It  was  borne  in  upon  Bahadur, 
by  the  operation  of  some  secret  wisdom,  that  through 
his  own  martyrdom,  freedom  of  religion  and  the  lives 
of  many  martyrs  might  be  saved.  This  wisdom  came 
to  him  as  follows. 

Messengers  came  imploring  help  against  Aurungzeb. 
For  some  time  Teg  Bahadur  sat  in  silence  and  pondered. 
His  beloved  son  Gobind  (afterwards  the  last  Guru)  was 
playing  in  the  hall  and  seeing  his  father  sad  went  to 
him  and  said  "  Father  dear,  why  sittest  thou  silent 
to-day  ?  " 

The  Guru  seated  his  dear  child  near  him  and  said, 
"  My  son,  thou  knowest  nothing  yet.  Thou  art  still  a 
child.  The  world  is  grieved  by  the  oppression  of  the 
Turks.  No  brave  man  is  now  to  be  found.  He  who  is 
willing  to  sacrifice  his  life  shall  free  the  earth  from  the 
burden  of  the  Mohammedans." 

Then  the  child,  upon  whom  there  rested  already  the 


xxiv      SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

signs  of  leadership,  answered,  "  For  that  purpose  who 
is  more  worthy  than  thou,  who  art  at  once  generous 
and  brave  ?  " 

"  When  Guru  Teg  Bahadur  heard  this  from  his 
child's  lips  he  divined  everything  that  was  to  follow." 
This  "  everything "  included  his  own  surrender  to 
Aurungzeb,  his  martyrdom,  and  his  death  which 
followed  in  due  course. 

So  did  the  ninth  teacher  of  the  Sikh  religion  solve 
the  problem  which  is  still  being  set  before  us  thinking 
beings — in  what  manner  and  to  what  extremity  are 
aggression  and  violence  to  be  resented?  Let  it  be  re- 
marked that  the  two  Sikh  leaders  who  suffered  torture 
and  death,  both  approved  in  their  last  hours  the  fighting 
qualities  of  their  sons. 

Govind  Singh,  tenth  and  last  Guru,  appears  in  his 
picture  as  the  most  gorgeous  cavalier  imaginable. 
His  charger  prances  the  air  in  embroidered  saddle 
cloth  and  splendidly  designed  caparison  of  gold.  The 
Guru  himself  has  an  embroidered  kilt  and  intricately 
adorned  apparel.  He  wears  a  long  black  beard,  carries 
bow  and  spear  and  scimitar,  and  his  head  is  surrounded 
by  a  huge  halo  of  solid  and  handsome  workmanship: — 
beauty,  splendour,  wealth,  saintship  and  war,  all 
included  in  one. 

A  master  saint  of  the  Hindus  on  meeting  and  talking 
to  Guru  Gobindh  remarked  that  he  had  the  outward 
appearance  of  a  lion,  but  that  he  was  inwardly  a  saint. 
The  Guru  explained  that  his  warlike  appearance  had 
been  assumed  to  put  fear  on  the  Turks  who  had  inflicted 
great  misery  and  hardship  on  his  country.  A  Moham- 
medan soldier  described  Gobind  Singh  to  the  emperor 


INTRODUCTION  xxv 

at  this  time  as  "a  young  handsome  man,  a  living  saint, 
the  father  of  his  people,  and  in  war  equal  to  a  hundred 
thousand  men." 

When  war  was  made  by  the  hill-chiefs  on  the  Sikhs, 
Gobind  made  a  mighty  drum,  whose  voice  was  heard 
in  every  corner  of  the  hills;  he  rallied  his  men  and  led 
them  out  to  victory. 

After  this  defeat  of  the  hill  tribes  it  happened  that 
some  wandering  actors  visited  the  emperor's  court.  He 
ordered  them  to  produce  a  Sikh  play,  which  they  did, 
in  a  poor  way.  But  the  emperor,  who  was  not  wanting 
in  wit,  gathered  from  it  that  the  Sikhs  loved  each  other 
much;  and  they  seemed  to  him  dangerous  as  being 
united  by  no  common  bond;  so  he  determined  they 
must  be  crushed.  Thus  it  was  that  it  became  more  and 
more  necessary  to  rouse  all  the  manly  qualities  of  the 
Sikhs.  The  Brotherhood  of  Lions  was  indeed  becoming 
formidable.  One  great  scene  is  described  when  Gobind 
called  his  people  together,  having  first  ordered  that  five 
goats  should  be  tied  within  an  enclosed  space  near  by. 
Then  he  stood  up  before  the  people  and  cried  out  in 
a  great  voice:  "If  there  be  any  true  Sikh  of  mine 
let  him  give  me  his  head  as  an  offering  and  proof  of 
his  faith."  One  Daya  Ram  rose  and  said :  "  O  True 
King,  take  my  head  " ;  the  Guru  led  him  within  the 
enclosure  and  gave  him  a  seat.  Then  he  slew  a  goat 
and  going  to  the  people  again  cried  out  for  a  head.  So 
he  did  till  he  had  found  five  devoted  ones,  whom  he 
led  out  and  showed  to  the  people.  He  said  to  them, 
"  The  Khalsa  can  now  only  be  maintained  as  a  nation 
by  bravery  and  skill  in  arms.  Therefore  I  now  institute 
the  custom  of  baptism  by  water  stirred  with  a  dagger 
and  change  my  followers  from  Sikhs  to  Singhs  or  lions." 


xxvi     SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 


III 

After  this  the  Sikhs  became  more  warriors  than  saints. 
It  is  true  that  Guru  Gobind  bade  a  Sikh  woman  cast 
a  sweetmeat  in  the  cauldron  which  he  stirred  with  his 
dagger,  signifying  thereby  the  sweetness  of  women. 
Yet  the  difference  may  be  felt  between  his  contribu- 
tions to  the  Granth  Sahib  and  those  of  his  predecessors. 
He  became  more  like  the  Mohammedans  and  he  and 
his  bards  began  to  write  like  them;  as  for  instance: 
"  Blest  is  his  life  in  this  world  who  repeateth  God's  name 
with  his  mouth  and  meditateth  war  in  his  heart." 

So  does  Mars  ever  contrive  to  muddle  the  under- 
standing of  his  sons.  Yet  it  is  impossible  to  deny 
Govindh  a  certain  greatness  of  mind;  it  is  felt  in  two 
lines  from  his  famous  letter  to  the  tyrant  Aurungzeb: 

I  am  the  destroyer  of  the  turbulent  hill-men. 

Since  they  are  idolaters  and  I  am  a  breaker  of  idols. 

This  is  the  very  voice  and  temper  of  the  Iconoclasts 
of  the  Byzantine  Empire. 

As  a  fighting  man  his  qualities  were  superb.  An 
Iliad  might  be  written  of  his  vast  struggle  with  a  far 
superior  force.  He  had  the  chivalrous  gallantry  of  a 
Hector  as  well  as  the  wisdom  of  a  Ulysses.  No  tale  of 
Trojan  women  is  more  moving  than  that  of  his  noble 
wife  and  her  four  sons,  heroes  true  to  the  quality  of 
sire  and  grandsire, — not  fearing,  in  their  childhood 
to  face  an  emperor  and  to  speak  the  truth,  with  death 
before  them.  The  successive  deaths  of  all  four  were 
foreseen  by  their  mother:  having  seen  two  perish  and 
the  remaining  two  being  sent  for  by  the  emperor  she 


INTRODUCTION  xxvii 

asked  permission  of  her  lord  to  quit  her  life,  since  she 
could  be  of  no  more  use.  Seeing  that  he  too  must  leave 
her  he  gave  his  consent  and  she  suspended  her  breath 
and  passed  away.  Gobindh,  indomitable,  still  battled 
on  till  the  year  1708,  when  he  died  of  his  wounds  which, 
but  half-healed,  burst  open  as  he  tried  his  strength  on  a 
mighty  bow.  He  died  like  the  lion  he  was  and  with  his 
last  strength  left  the  beloved  Book,  the  Guru  Grantb 
to  his  followers  as  his  successors.  He  left  the  military 
power  of  the  Sikhs  strengthened  and  enlarged  as 
the  result  of  his  noble  personality  and  dauntless 
struggles. 

One  cannot  think  of  the  Sikh  militant  idea,  especially 
after  a  terrible  world-war,  without  trying  to  discover  in 
Indian  religion  traces  of  the  same  belief  in  a  deliverance 
of  a  chosen  people  by  the  sword.  In  the  Vishmi-sutra, 
a  series  of  glosses  and  comments  on  the  sacred  laws, 
are  to  be  found  many  passages  that  bear  upon  the 
recognition  of  the  militant  idea  as  inherent  in  the  law. 
In  the  pages  that  expound  the  duties  of  a  king,  we  are 
told  that  "six  measures"  of  a  military  ruler  are:  making 
war,  gaining  allies,,  going  to  battle,  encamping,  securing 
the  aid  of  a  king  yet  more  powerful,  and  marshalling 
his  armies.  There  is  no  higher  duty  for  men  of  the 
military  caste,  we  read  again,  than  to  risk  their  life 
in  battle.  And  then,  for  the  necessary  elements  of  a 
state  they  are  seven:  the  king,  the  king's  council,  his 
fortress,  his  treasure,  his  army,  his  realm,  and  his  royal 
ally.  Again, — the  attack  of  his  enemies  must  be 
countered  by  force  of  arms.  These  and  the  like  clauses 
and  legal  articles  would  be  enough  to  show  in  them- 
selves a  rooted  belief  in  the  fighting  powers,  the  militant 


xxviii      SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

economy  of  states,  and  the  military  instinct  of  men. 
Not  only  that,  the  idea  is  implicit  in  the  account  of  the 
Hell  torments  of  the  survivors  and  criminals,  whose 
violent  crimes  are  to  be  punished  by  violence.  They 
are  to  be  scorched  by  flames,  sawn  asunder,  their 
backs,  shoulders  and  heads  fractured,  their  bodies  hung 
with  snakes,  or  shot  through  like  St.  Sebastian  with 
sheafs  of  arrows  and  thorn-scored,  and  ground,  cut 
and  hacked  to  pieces. 

It  may  be  said  that  in  the  enumeration  of  the  saving 
virtues,  there  is  no  account  in  Vishnu-sutra  of  those 
of  a  martial  kind — physical  courage,  prowess  in  arms, 
and  the  male  energy.  But  the  fighting  instinct  is 
recognised  throughout  its  pages  openly  or  figuratively; 
and  at  the  close,  when  Laks'mi  speaks  to  the  goddess 
of  earth  she  begins  by  saying: 

Always  am  I  at  the  side  of  the  Destroying  One,  Vishnu,  the 
shining  slayer  of  Madhu,  O  Goddess,  who  shinest  like 
gold! 

The  sense  of  warfare  is  often  present  in  Indian  religion; 
and  the  Sikh  apotheosis  of  the  fighting  genius  of  its 
men  empowered  to  save  their  people,  is  not  a  break 
with  tradition.  With  the  Sikhs,  too,  the  cult  of  the  sword 
is  another  expression  of  the  struggle  for  a  pure  and 
free  religion  held  by  the  morally  brave:  Nanak's  con- 
ception of  religion  was  not  one  for  slaves.  It  bred  free- 
dom and  truth;  under  the  yoke  of  Islam  there  was  no 
place  for  the  free. 

The  temper  of  the  Sikh  religion  was  in  sympathy 
with  the  more  liberated  Western  mind.  There  was  a 
universality  in  the  ground  of  Sikh  thought  that  attracted 
them  to  all  who  possessed  the  rudiments  of  clear  and 


INTRODUCTION 


XX!X 


devout  thought.  It  was  this  quality  of  honesty  and 
valour  that  brought  them  into  sympathy  with  the 
English  mind.  The  same  universality  of  thought,  the 
same  purity  of  aspiration,  belongs  to  the  latest  poet 
of  the  race  whose  work  is  destined  to  be  almost  as 
well  understood  in  the  West  as  in  the  East. 


IV 

From  time  out  of  memory  there  have  lived  in 
India  saints  and  thinkers  who  have  been  discontented 
with  ritual  and  idol  worship,  and  have  thought  their 
independent  way  to  the  worship  of  the  pure  spirit  of 
God.  These  men  were  forerunners  of  the  great  Nanak; 
they  are  called  the  Bhagats,  or  lovers — perhaps  the 
Devoted  Ones  would  be  a  truer  title;  and  among  these 
Devoted  we  think  Puran  Singh  should  be  numbered. 
They  were,  some  of  them,  Mohammedans  and  some 
Hindus;  a  few  of  the  hymns  written  by  these  early 
saints  are  given  in  the  Guru  Granth.  In  a  poem  express- 
ing the  grief  of  the  soul  when  shut  out  from  the  con- 
fidence of  God  occur  the  lines  on  which  Puran  Singh 
has  built  the  first  poem  in  his  book: 

O  black  Koel,  why  art  thou  black  ? 

THE  KofeL.   I  have  been  burnt  by  separation  from  my  Beloved: 
Can  she  who  is  separated  from  her  Beloved  ever  be  happy? 

Jaidev  was  perhaps  the  most  interesting  of  those 
who  are  represented  in  the  Guru  Granth.  He  lived  in 
the  twelfth  century.  The  king  of  Bengal  (who  must 
have  been  a  cultivated  person  himself)  wrote  a  one-line 


xxx      SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

epitaph  on  Jaidev  which  was  engraved  on  a  monument 
to  the  memory  of  four  poets.  "  Jaidev  alone  knoweth 
purity  of  style."  He  was  an  accomplished  scholar;  but 
so  great  was  his  love  for  the  pure  contemplative  life 
that  at  last  he  denied  himself  pen,  ink  and  paper.  He 
would  not  sleep  for  two  nights  together  under  the  same 
tree  for  fear  he  might  attach  himself  to  it  and  forget  his 
Creator.  At  last  a  beautiful  young  wife  mysteriously 
presented  herself  to  him:  for  some  time  he  refused  her 
but  at  last  was  reconciled  to  her  presence.  He  built  a 
cottage  for  her  and  settled  down  to  write  poetry.  He 
produced  the  poem  called  the  Gitgovind  which  has 
been  translated  by  both  Sir  William  Jones  and  Sir 
Edwin  Arnold.  An  astonishing  proof  of  its  poetical 
quality  is  to  be  got  from  this  charming  story :  a 
gardener's  daughter  was  one  day  gathering  egg-plants 
near  the  temple  of  Juganath,  Lord  of  the  World;  as 
she  gathered  she  sang  the  following  verse  from  the 
fifth  canto  of  the  poem : 

The  zephyr  gently  blows  on  the  banks  of  the  Yamuna  while 
Krishna  tarries  in  the  grove. 

The  great  idol  came  forth  from  his  temple  and 
followed  the  maiden  wherever  she  went  that  he  might 
listen  to  her  song;  and  not  without  damage  to  his 
clothes,  for  he  wore  only  a  thin  tunic  which  was  torn 
by  the  branches.  Next  morning  when  the  rajah  visited 
the  temple,  he  saw  the  state  of  the  idol's  dress.  On 
asking  the  cause  and  being  told  of  the  idol's  delight 
in  the  poetry  of  Jaidev  the  rajah  issued  an  edict  that 
the  Gitgovind  must  only  be  recited  in  a  clean  and 
orderly  place  as  the  Lord  of  the  World  was  in  the  habit 
of  listening  to  it,  and  his  clothes  must  be  preserved 


INTRODUCTION  xxxi 

from  damage.  So  much  does  Indian  tradition  honour 
the  sweet  singers  of  the  race.  Delightful  country,  when 
even  the  kings  have  a  sense  of  style,  where  the  gardeners' 
daughters  sing  poems,  and  the  very  idols  are  re-animated 
by  numbers  whose  only  magic  is  the  magic  of  art ! 

It  would  seem  that  a  great  living  stream  of  tradition, 
continually  refreshed  by  small,  clear,  mountain-born 
brooks,  flowed  in  Indian  poetry,  and  was  never  left 
long  without  its  new  tributary.  More  than  that,  in 
reading  the  hymns  and  poems  of  the  Sikhs  one  is  led  to 
think  that  the  maintainers  of  it  in  each  new  period 
were  under  a  kind  of  law  that  ruled  their  minds  and 
bade  them  be  tireless  in  the  effort  to  continue  the  lyric 
stream  and  give  it  free  outlet.  This  mingling  of  in- 
dividual impulse  with  a  collective  tradition  is  seen  in 
our  Western  poetry  too,  but  not  working  to-day  in  the 
same  way.  What  strikes  one  in  the  individual  poet 
who  succeeds  to  the  lyric  line,  and  devotes  himself 
to  the  art  of  worthily  continuing  it,  is  his  trustfulness, 
his  almost  child-like  faith,  in  devoting  his  faculties 
to  the  task.  He  is  like  the  child  Arjan  (in  a  story  that 
is  told  in  the  life  of  Guru  Amar  Das),  who  three  times 
put  his  hand  into  the  Guru's  sacred  plate  of  food,  and 
by  that  innocent  persistence,  won  his  right  to  the  great 
succession,  and  became,  as  Amar  Das  put  it,  "  heir 
to  the  plate."  Or,  he  is  like  Jetha,  Arjan's  father,  who 
had  more  than  a  touch  of  the  same  persistence.  He 
built  up  and  destroyed,  to  the  seventh  time,  a  little 
stage  or  platform  on  which  the  master  should  sit, 
working  away  at  it  and  then  unbuilding  to  build  it 
again  yet  more  perfectly,  until  the  final  test  of  his 
service  was  fulfilled.  It  is  that  very  discharge  from  the 


xxxii    SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

vanity  of  the  half-artist,  who  is  so  often  eager  only  to 
be  praised  quickly  and  to  gain  applause,  which  strikes 
one  in  the  Indian  poets.  Their  clear  spirit  enabled  them 
to  become  channels  of  the  heaven-sent,  clear  flowing 
water  of  the  true  tradition;  and  that  is  the  responsive 
and  open-minded  lyric  spirit  we  find  in  the  songs  of 
Puran  Singh. 

V 

The  story  of  the  poet  himself  remains  to  be  given, 
and  this  can  be  done,  fortunately,  in  his  own  words, 
drawn  from  an  autobiography-in-little  which  he  sent 
to  the  present  writers : 

"  Ever  since  I  was  a  boy,"  he  wrote,  "  these  Punjabi 
lyrics  have  been  haunting  me,  I  have  spent  days  and 
days  in  their  pure  delight.  There  are  moments  when 
in  deep  association  with  their  song,  I  feel  irresistibly 
bound  to  go  sharing  my  joy  with  others.  In  my  younger 
days  I  embraced  rocks  and  trees  as  I  went,  and  cried 
for  what  I  knew  not. 

"  I  was  born  in  1881,  in  a  village  near  Abbottabad 
(North  Western  Province  Frontier).  Our  family  has 
never  been  what  they  call  rich,  but  we  have  always 
been  happy  in  the  wealth  of  feeling  that  came  to  us 
in  abundance  from  our  ancestors,  especially  from  my 
mother's  side.  My  father,  being  a  subordinate  Govern- 
ment official,  had  to  roam  for  most  of  the  year  in  the 
frontier  hills,  inspecting  crops  and  land-records;  and 
we  lived  with  our  mother,  mostly  in  the  hill  villages. 
Our  mother  did  everything  for  us.  She  cooked  for  us, 
washed  our  clothes,  took  us  to  the  hill  streams  and 
gave  us  a  daily  plunge  in  the  crystal,  biting  cold  water. 


INTRODUCTION  xxxiii 

She  took  us  to  the  village  Sikh  temple,  made  us  listen 
to  the  hymns  of  the  Guru  every  morning,  and  generally 
in  the  afternoon  we  all  sat  listening  to  the  recital  of 
the  lines  of  the  great  teacher  by  the  village  priest.  At 
night,  all  alone,  we  sat  together  round  the  fire  as  my 
mother  and  elder  sister  sat  before  their  spinning-wheels, 
preparing  thread  for  getting  some  cloth  woven  by  the 
village  weaver  for  the  family.  As  you  see,  for  most  of 
the  time,  mother  lived  alone.  She  was  by  our  side, 
but  God  alone  was  by  her.  She  was  equally  unafraid 
of  thieves  and  evil  spirits:  her  courage  was  extra- 
ordinary. The  whole  village  respected  her.  As  you 
know,  that  part  of  the  country  is  full  of  Pathans,  and 
even  they  admired  my  mother  for  her  heroic  spirit. 
Under  these  circumstances  father  came  to  us  after 
long  intervals,  as  a  sudden  delight  of  Heaven,  which 
we  childreu  expressed  by  running  aimlessly  about, 
shouting:  'Oh!  father  has  come!  father  has  come!' 
We  went  and  embraced  him,  then  began  clinging  round 
the  neck  of  a  gentle  fine  mare  he  had,  and  gave  him  in 
every  way  a  royal  welcome  home. 

"  He  just  made  enough  to  make  the  two  ends  meet 
for  the  Indian  village  life  which  used  to  be  so  cheap  in 
those  old  days.  But  we  knew  nothing  of  this.  Our  mother 
brought  us  up  like  little  princes.  We  had  '  velvet  coats'  * 
and  occasionally  good  English  shoes  to  wear.  She  thus 
added  to  our  mind  from  our  infancy  a  divine  richness 
which  never  attached  any  value  to  wealth,  property, 
or  any  form  of  mere  possession  of  things.  Our  house 
was  always  open  to  poor  people,  and  whoever  came  to 

1  The  children  of  India  have  velvet  coats  for  winter  ;    but 
only  rich  people  as  a  rule  manage  to  get  them  for  their  children. 
C 


xxxiv     SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

beg  of  my  mother  for  a  suit  of  clothes  or  a  little  money 
had  it.  No  one  was  sent  away  from  our  door  without 
being  given  a  share  of  whatever  we  could  give. 

"  My  mother  was  known  for  her  generosity  and  cour- 
age. She  would  serve  her  relatives  for  months,  and  on 
occasion  nurse  the  sick  and  the  wounded  with  her  own 
hand  day  and  night,  single-handed  and  untiring.  If 
she  thought  a  certain  thing  was  good  and  must  be  done 
she  did  it,  in  spite  of  the  whole  world's  opposition. 

As  for  the  outer  environment  of  my  childhood,  the 
Pathan  was  there,  with  his  love  of  death  and  danger, 
his  untamed  freedom  of  soul,  and  the  quaint  moral  code 
which  he  faithfully  followed,  looking  at  me,  taking  me 
on  his  knees,  and  telling  me  his  folk  tales.  The  weird 
hill  surroundings  of  Gandhara  and  Kagan,  the  daily 
baths  in  the  crystalline  waters  of  ever  singing  hill- 
streams,  the  solitude  of  night,  the  innocence  of  the  day, 
filled  us,  girl  and  boy,  with  the  elementary  joys  of  life. 
I  grew  up  like  a  little  '  Pathan  '  child  with  a  Hindu 
mind,  that  learnt  the  Song  of  the  Guru  in  its  cradle; 
and  in  my  younger  days  looked  just  like  a  Pathan. 

"  Mother  wished  to  give  me  a  good  education.  We 
had  no  good  teaching,  it  is  true;  but  whatever 
could  be  had,  she  gave.  In  spite  of  lack  of  funds,  she 
willed  it,  and  put  me  to  school.  She  left  the  hills  and 
villages  and  came  to  live  at  Rawalpindi,  then  a  little 
town,  now  a  very  large  cantonment.  I  was  not  a  very 
diligent  student,  but  one  who  had  the  knack  of 
keeping  his  teacher  impressed  and  of  getting  through 
exams,  with  ease.  I  never  put  my  heart  into  what  I 
studied,  only  minding  the  joys  of  life  as  it  kept  on 
changing  from  day  to  day  in  me.  In  these  days,  again, 


INTRODUCTION  xxxv 

though  we  were  living  in  the  city  of  our  relatives,  we 
were  alone  with  our  mother,  as  our  ways  were  not  quite 
in  harmony  with  the  sense  of  cities. 

My  mother  used  to  go  to  bed  early;  she  felt  so 
tired  after  the  day's  incessant  toil,  while  I  went  through 
my  books.  I  still  remember  the  lonely  midnights; 
the  earthen-lamp,  and  the  midnight  call  of  my  mother 
to  leave  my  books  and  go  to  bed.  But  then  I  only 
poured  more  oil  into  my  lamp  and  took  a  new  wick  to 
complete  my  lessons.  I  passed  the  entrance  examina- 
tion which  meant  that  I  could  get  into  a  college  for 
my  '  higher  '  education.  Then  I  had  to  leave  my  mother, 
for  I  had  to  go  to  Lahore.  This  tore  me  from  the 
home  associations  so  dear  to  me  and  deprived  me  of 
my  mother's  immediate  care.  At  Lahore,  while  in  the 
college,  I  constantly  thought  of  my  mother,  how  she 
toiled  for  us  day  and  night,  and  how  she  gave  us  all  a 
beautiful  independence  of  mind  by  her  own  self- 
sacrifice  and  constant  thought  of  us.  Removed  as  I 
was  from  her  to  a  little  distance,  she  shone  before  me 
more  than  those  distant  diamond  peaks  of  the  high 
hills  which  I  had  left  behind.  One  thing  more  I  now 
see  I  got  from  my  mother,  a  wonderful  elasticity 
of  mind.  Naturally  optimistic  and  strong  in  her  faith, 
she  took  no  time  to  return  to  herself  when  disturbed 
by  any  unpleasantness.  She  got  reconciled  to  every- 
thing quickly  again,  as  if  she  knew  '  God  is  in  Heaven 
and  all  is  well.' 

"While  not  yet  a  graduate,  I  got  an  open  scholar- 
ship to  go  to  Japan  for  study.  Mother  was  against 
my  going  away  from  her,  but  I  persuaded  her,  and 
so  without  much  thinking,  left  for  Japan.  It  was  in 


xxxvi    SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

1900.  I  was  in  the  Tokyo  Imperial  University  studying 
applied  chemistry  for  more  than  three  years,  and  learn- 
ing a  good  deal  of  the  industrial  life  of  that  country. 
I  came  in  contact  with  the  leading  Japanese  people 
and  was  a  friend  of  many  a  family,  where  I  found  the 
love  of  flowers,  of  nature,  and  of  Buddha.  I  met  men 
of  silence,  men  of  joy,  poets  and  artists,  and  I  always 
sought  for  the  hidden  riches  of  the  soul  wherever  I 
went.  Towards  the  close  of  my  stay  there,  I  gained 
the  new  joy  of  freedom  from  self  and  everything  dropped 
from  my  hands.  I  turned  a  monk.  Tears  of  joy  rolled 
from  my  eyes,  and  my  words  were  soft  as  cherry  flowers 
dropping  in  air.  It  seemed  that  I  loved  everyone  and 
everyone  loved  me.  If  Japan  was  beautiful,  people 
around  me  saw  the  evidence  in  me.  A  Persian  poet 
says: 

Are  you  going  out  to  see  gardens  and  roses  ? 
What  a  pity, 

Open  the  Door  of  Heart,  enter  and  see 
What  fiery  roses  bloom  within. 

"  Such  was  my  condition  of  full  youth,  lived  in 
supreme  innocence;  floods  of  ecstacy  overwhelming 
me,  Buddha  before  me,  behind  me,  above  me,  in  me. 
And  there  I  met  an  Indian  saint  who  came  from  India. 
He  touched  me  with  Divine  Fire  and  I  became  a 
Sanyasin.  But  now,  as  I  see,  he  put  many  ideas  in 
my  head  in  pursuance  of  what  these  modern  Hindu 
monks  were  keen  about, — Nation-making,  awakening 
India  to  its  greatness,  work,  work,  work.  Though  I 
was  never  much  attracted  by  the  vain  pursuits  of 
life,  yet,  to  obey  one  who  told  me  so  much  about 
Self-Realisation,  I  threw  all  my  books  of  science  and 


INTRODUCTION  xxxvii 

notebooks  aside,  and  started  for  India.  On  the  whole, 
Japan  was  more  conducive  to  the  keeping  of  the  Great 
Idea  and  the  spirit  of  life,  than  my  own  country.  But 
I  arrived  back  full  of  dreams  and  sweet  hopes,  with 
which  the  Hindu  Sanyasi  had  mixed  thunder  and 
lightning  and  the  wish  to  be  effective  for  '  work.' 

"  But  in  spite  of  the  yellow  robe,  I  could  not  forget 
the  '  Nest '  which  I  had  left.  In  my  absence,  the  cir- 
cumstances of  the  family  grew  still  worse  and  poverty 
threatened  it.  My  mother  heard  of  my  arrival  at 
Calcutta,  and  she  lost  no  time  in  travelling  to  Calcutta 
to  find  me  in  that  big  crowded  city  without  knowing 
my  address.  I  wonder  now  why  I  did  not  cry  when 
I  first  met  her  after  such  a  long  time  ?  It  was  certainly 
due  to  that  '  congealing  '  of  my  stream  of  tears  which 
the  Hindu  Sanyasi  produced  in  me.  My  father  was 
with  her.  He  was  deeply  hurt  at  seeing  me  a  monk, 
though  what  I  did  was  in  the  real  fulfilment  of  his 
metaphysical  ideas.  He  was  bitter  and  sarcastic  in  his 
speech  to  me,  but  my  mother  soon  reconciled  herself 
to  it,  sympathised  with  me  and  even  admired  me  for 
my  taking  the  right  direction.  After  a  day  or  two,  she 
asked  me  to  accompany  her  to  see  my  sisters,  and  I  did. 
I  returned  to  my  '  Nest ' — a  poor  mud  house  at  Abbotta- 
bad — where  my  two  sisters  stood  in  the  courtyard 
waiting  for  me,  and  by  their  side  stood  on  their  tiny 
legs  my  two  younger  brothers,  little  children  peeping 
out  of  their  half-starved  frames  for  their  brother;  and 
a  cry  went  up  from  them  as  my  mother  entered,  leading 
her  monk-son  at  midnight.  The  moon  was  shining  full, 
and  mother  said  to  them:  'There!  There  is  your 
brother.' 


xxxviii     SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

"  There  stood  I,  in  full  moonlight,  in  my  orange 
garb,  my  mother  pointing  to  me;  and  my  sisters,  breath- 
less with  joy,  were  suddenly  struck  with  horror  at  seeing 
me,  the  Sikh  boy  who  at  all  costs  must  respect  the 
sacred  Guru-given  tresses  and  turban,  a  clean-shaven 
monk.  But  my  old  associations  took  no  time  to  bridge 
the  gulf  and  we  ran  into  each  others  arms.  They  wept; 
I  wept  not,  which  I  still  regret.  Nothing  could  describe 
the  solace  my  coming  home  brought  to  the  family. 

"  I  found  my  younger  sister,  Ganza,  was  not  well, 
and  after  about  a  fortnight  of  my  arrival  there  she  lay 
in  my  arms  dying  of  fever.  I  asked  her  if  she  wished 
of  me  anything  to  be  done  for  her  sake. 

"  '  Brother!  Marry  the  girl  we  have  chosen  for  you.' 

"  '  Yes,  I  will,  dear  Ganga.  Do  not  have  any  misgiving 
as  to  that.' 

"  I  kissed  her,  and  she  passed  away  as  I  held  her  in 
my  arms." 


PREFACE 

OUR  Father  Guru  Govind  Singh,  the  tenth  Guru  of 
the  Khalsa,  promised  his  own  presence  for  all  time  on 
this  earth,  in  the  Mystic  Person  of  "  Guru  Granth," 
which  they  call  the  Bible  of  the  Sikhs.  On  this  earth, 
all  the  Sikh  Saints  and  Adepts  are  resumed  and 
contained  for  us  in  this  Mystic  Person,  who  now  is 
supreme.  "  Guru  Granth,"  become  flesh  and  blood, 
calls  to  us,  his  disciples,  to  come  and  touch  him, 
saying,  "  Behold  I  am  made  man."  He  is  a  living 
man.  He  is  a  Man  with  a  Divine  appointment. 
Whenever  His  Lotus-Feet  come  nigh,  I  bow  before 
him,  I  cry  aloud  in  joy. 

In  moments  of  this  joy  and  under  the  cool  shades 
of  "  Guru  Granth,"  I  have  tried  to  write  down,  mostly 
for  myself,  a  portion  of  the  sweetness  with  which  His 
Grace  filled  me  at  times.  These  out-pourings  of  a  single 
heart  in  God's  Infinite  Universe  are  offered  here  as  a 
personal  offering — as  songs  of  joy,  uttered  in  the  name 
of  the  Prophet  of  the  Glory  of  the  Lord  of  All. 

To  avoid  any  misunderstanding,  I  must  plainly  say 
that  these  pieces  can,  at  best,  be  said  to  convey  a  small 
portion  of  the  Divine  Idea  that  floods  every  page  of 
"  Guru  Granth."  It  requires  the  whole  of  Divine 
Humanity  to  interpret  for  the  life  of  man  the  meaning 
and  music  of  "  Guru  Granth,"  that  transcends  this  life 


xl        SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

on  this  earth  and  is  heard  beyond  death.     So  do  we 
believe. 

I  only  publish  these  fragments  in  the  joy  of  my  total 
failure  at  an  attempted  rendering  of  a  few  pieces  from 
"  Guru  Granth "  into  English.  I  would  have  been 
glad  to  have  been  overwhelmed  in  the  Amrit  floods 
that  are  set  free  by  the  touch  of  that  Sacred  Presence; 
but  no,  I  am  still  on  the  banks  of  the  stream.  The 
true  deliverance  would  have  been  to  slip  into  the 
Infinite  by  a  plunge  in  the  all-forgetting  and  all- 
absorbing  love  of  the  Beloved. 

The  Auspicious  Day  has  dawned ! 

The  Hour  is  fixed  for  my  wedding  with  my  Lord  I 

Come,  Comrades!   Assemble  and  make  rejoicings, 

Anoint  the  Bride  with  oil  and  pour  on  her  your  blessings ! 

Comrades !   Pray,  the  Bride  may  meet  Her  Lord  I 

PURAN  SINGH. 

DEHRA  DUN, 

February,  1915. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

INTRODUCTION      .......  v 

PREFACE      ........  xxxix 

POEMS  FROM  THE  LAND  OF  THE  FIVE  RIVERS: — 

Koel 3 

Chatrik           ........  4 

Rajhans         ........  5 

Paras    .........  6 

The  Woman 8 

POEMS  OF  A  SIKH: — 

The  Turban'd  Man  .          .          .          .          .          .29 

An  Unknown  Man  .......  29 

The  Man  Who  becomes  Me      .....  30 

The  Man  in  Me       .......  30 

The  Man  in  Me  and  not  in  Me           ....  31 

When?   I  know  not         ......  31 

The  Silver  Feet 32 

Glory!  Glory!  Everywhere!     .....  32 

His  Miracles  are  Great     .          .          .          .          .          -33 

The  Twilight  of  Thy  Glance     .....  34 

Nam :  the  Name  of  the  Infinite           ....  34 

Guru  Nanak  ........  37 

I  am  the  Child  lost  in  the  World-Fair          ...  44 

POEMS  ON  SIMRAN: — 

The  Whole  Horizon  of  My  Mind  55 

As  a  Woman  loves  Man  ......  55 

The  Man  of  God 56 

Of  what  Use  to  turn  the  Beads         ....  57 

Each  Saint  is  a  Great  Star  of  Simran  Life           .          .  58 

On  the  Wheel  of  Simran            .....  59 

The  Guru  gathers  the  Man  Grain  by  Grain          .          .  60 
All  the  March  of  Things  is  Divine     .          .          .          .61 

I  do  not  know  why          ......  62 

xli 


xlii      SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

POEMS  ON  SIM  RAN — continued.  PAGE 

I  met  a  Woman  once       ......  63 

The  Persons  of  Men         ......  63 

In  a  Thousand  Sacred  Rivers  I  have  plunged    .          .  64 

Touch  My  Heart 65 

The  Nest  in  the  Grass-Blades 66 

When  all  the  Doors  are  closed           ....  66 

I  am  the  Gardener's  Daughter          ....  68 

An  Offering             .......  73 

READINGS  FROM  "  GURU  GRANTH": — 

Japji     .         .  -79 

Sloka .      103 

Keertan  Sohila,  or  The  Wedding  Song      .          .  .104 

O  Sisters  1  it  is  the  Month  of  Rain             .          .  .no 

The  Moment  when  I  see  Thee  not    .          .          .  .113 

The  Husband  of  the  Countless  Worlds      .          .  .114 

Give  Him,  the  Beloved,  the  News  of  Us   .          .  .      115 

"  My  mother,  my  father,  my  owner  is  my  Lord  "  .      1 16 

"  Holy  is  the  dust  of  the  lotus  feet  of  Thy  Saints  1 "  .     1 1 6 

"  O  disciple,  bathe  thy  mind "          .          .          .  117 

"  They  come  and  they  go "      .          .          .          .  117 

"  He  is  very  beautiful "            .          .          .          .  .118 

"  Transparent  grows  my  soul  "         .          .          .  .118 

"O  Beloved!" 119 

"  Fetch  that  elixir !  then"       .          .          .          .  .119 

"  Hate  no  one "     .          .          .          .          .          .  .119 

"  Peace  is  mine,  when  selfishness  drops  from  me  "  .      120 

"  If  it  be  Thy  wish,  O  Lord !"           .          .          .  .120 

"  The  Transcendental  Beauty "         .•         .          .  .121 

"  A  man! "    .          .          .          .          .          .          .  .121 

"  Those  who  love  Him,  love  nothing  else  "         .  .      122 

"  As  water  is  to  the  fish "                  .          .          .  .122 

"  Wait,  O  woman  of  love  and  longing  "     .          .  .122 

"  A  thousand  times  I  would  die  for  those  "        .  .     123 
"  O  Kind  One!  now  meet  me!  "       ....     123 

"  Peace!  "........     124 

"  My  mind  is  happy,  my  heart  dances  with  joy  "  .      125 
"  Oh  eyes!   my  eyes!".            .....      125 

"  My  sweet,  sweet  God  has  concealed  "                .  .126 

"  Hard!  very  hard  indeed  is  the  life  of  Love  "  .  .      127 


CONTENTS  xliii 

READINGS  FROM  "  GURU  GRANTH  " — continued.  PAGE 

"  Look!  the  shades  of  evening  spread  "  .          .127 

"  This  little  shrine  of  human  body !"         .          .          .129 
"  Flung  away  are  we  from  Thee  "       .          .          .    -      .      130 
"  My  soul  is  on  fire  "         ......      131 

"  Spring  is  gone  with  all  its  flowers  "  .          .          .132 

"  It  is  winter  now  "  ......      133 

"  For  our  distress  we  blame  no  one  "          .          .          .135 
"  Those  who  live  with  the  Beloved  never  perish  "       .      135 
' '  Thy  stellar  and  astral  systems  stand ;  they  are  Truth  "     1 36 
"  Wonder  of  all  wonders!  "  .          .          .          .136 

"  It  is  the  Miracle  of  His  Own  Presence  "  .          .137 

.    "  He  read  and  read  and  heaped  carts  on  carts  of  the 

books  of  learning  "  . 

"  Not  this,  not  this  is  the  Sacred  Thread  " 
"  By  self-surrender,  He  is  now  mine  " 
"  The  Wheel  of  Birth  and  Death  turns  !  " 
"  He  has  chosen  to  honour  His  slave  !  "    . 
"  Even  if  I  have  vexed  Thee  " 

Kama 

"  That  season  is  spring  v/hen  they  are  with  Thee  "     . 

"  O  my  mother !  how  can  I  aspire  to  see  my  Beloved  ?  " 

"  How  can  I  praise  Thee  who  has  given  me  life  " 

"  O  mother !  how  can  I  live  without  my  Beloved  "     . 

"  Every  day  I  rise  with  the  same  hope  "  . 

"  The  life  in  me  gets  attracted  by  the  glitter  of  gold  " 

"  O  Saints!   tell  me  how  does  my  Beloved  look?  "      . 

READINGS  FROM  "  SLOKAS  "  BY  GURU  TEG  BAHADUR  .  161 
READINGS  FROM  "  CHANTS  "  BY  GURU  RAM  DAS  .  .167 
READINGS  FROM  "  SLOKAS  "  BY  BHEGET  KABIR  Ji  .  .  173 


POEMS  FROM  THE  LAND  OF  THE 
FIVE  RIVERS 


THE     SISTERS    OF    THE 
SPINNING    WHEEL 

POEMS  FROM  THE  LAND  OF  THE 
FIVE  RIVERS 

KOEL  (THE  BLACK  CUCKOO) 

I 

KOEL!   what  lightning  fell?   what  singed  thy  wings  ? 

What  keeps  thee  fresh,  yet  charred  ? 

Concealed  in  the  mango-leaves,  thou  singest ! 

Thy  high-pitched  strains  wake  in  my  soul  a  thousand 

memories ! 
Why  so  restless  that  thy  spark-shedding  notes  go  forth 

kindling  fire  ? 

Lo !  The  roses  are  on  fire  which  winds  and  waters  catch  I 
The  shades  of  mangoes  burn! 
What  a  rain  of  sparks  art  thou,  O  little  Bird! 
Koel!   what  lightning  fell?    what  singed  thy  wings? 

II 

The  Fire  of  Love  has  charred  my  wings,  and  made  me 

anew, 

I  am  restless !   Where  is  my  Beloved  ? 
The  sight  of  mango-blossoms  fires  me  all  the  more! 
The  greener  the  garden,  the  brighter  burns  my  heart! 
My  flaming  soul  asks,  "  Where  ?  where  is  my  Beloved  ?  " 
"  Speak!   speak!   why  are  the  leaves  so  still  ?  " 

3 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 


CHATRIK 

O  CHATRIK!  l  Lover  of  the  cloud-clad  skies,  a  thirst, 

a  longing  for  the  nectar  drop ! 

Thou  hast  the  soul  of  a  disciple  that  pants  for  Hart  Ndm\ 
A  weird  cry  thou  pipest  as  thou  flittest  from  wood  to 

wood,  for  the  season  of  clouds. 
How  with  thy  half-opened  mouth,  thou  callest  for  the 

Pearl   that   lies   in   the   Treasure-House   of   the 

Sawan-clouds  I 
Ah!    In  what  a  bitter  pain  waits  thy  impatient  thirst, 

which  no  lower  heights  can  quench. 
For  thee  all  rivers  and  lakes  are,  as  it  were,  dry. 
Thy   soul  waits   for   thy  own   drop   from   clouds,   the 

dwellers  of  the  sky. 
Brave  lover!    Thou  lookest  not  on  oceans  of  waters 

around, 
Thou  seemest  to  be  the  throat  of  the  Sun-scorched  lands 

and    thou    appealest    for    the    Heaven-reflecting 

drop   which   rejoiceth   the   earth,    all   birds,    all 

animals,  and  all  mankind! 
Thou  art  the  Heart  of  a  Saint,  which  beateth  not  in 

thy    own    struggling    wings    alone,    but    beats 

beyond   thyself  in   the   nectar-drop   all-cooling, 

1  Chatrik  or  Sarang  is  the  vernacular  name  of  a  bird  who  in 
the  Punjabi  poetry,  like  the  Bulbul  in  the  Persian  poetry,  is  the 
chief  companion  of  the  poet  of  love.  It  is  said  to  be  the  chief 
lover  of  the  clouds  that  gather  in  the  Indian  sky  in  the  month 
of  rain  or  S&wan.  It  is  said  to  remain  thirsty  as  long  as  it  can- 
not have  the  rain  -  drop  from  the  clouds.  The  season  of  rain 
after  the  fierce  beating  of  the  sun  for  several  months  in  the 
tropics  is  a  universal  blessing. 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL         5 

mother  of  the  God-given  Month  of  Rain,  whose 
sudden  showers  bless  us  unawares. 
See  how  the  drops  dance  in  mid-air,  rewarding  thy  hopes, 
thy  longings  and  thy  love,  and  filling  thy  heart 
and  soul  with  the  whole  Infinite.  Thy  share  one 
drop,  one  little,  little  drop  of  Heaven. 


RAJHANS  (THE  PRINCE  OF  SWANS) 

RAJ  HANS  !  The  Golden  Swan!  Is  it  thy  plumage  that 
shines,  or  the  sunrise  on  the  eternal  snows  ? 

The  dweller  of  Mdn-Sarowar,  the  lake  on  the  roof  of 
the  world!  Thy  golden  beak  parts  milk  from 
water,  in  the  living  stream  thou  art  a  liberated 
soul! 

A  rosary  of  spotless  pearls  is  in  thy  beak,  and  how 
sublime  is  the  lofty  curve  of  thy  neck  against 
the  Heaven's  vast  azure! 

Thou  livest  on  pearls,  the  Nectar  drops  so  pure  of 
Hari  Nam. 

Great  soul!  lover  of  the  azure,  transparent  Infinite! 
Thou  canst  not  breathe  out  of  the  Man-Sarowar 
air,  nor  canst  thou  live  out  of  sight  of  those 
loftiest  peaks  of  snow,  and  away  from  the 
diluted  perfume  of  musk  blowing  from  the  wild 
trail  of  the  deer! 

Thou  art  the  Spirit  of  Beauty,  thou  art  far  beyond 
the  reach  of  human  thought.  Thy  isolation 
reflecteth  the  glory  of  the  starry  sky  in  thy 
Nectar  Lake  of  Heart  in  whose  waters  the  sun 
daily  dips  himself! 


6         SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

Thou  hast  the  limitless  expanse  of  air,  the  companion- 
ship of  fragrant  gods, 

And  yet  we  know  thou  leavest  those  Fair  Abodes  to 
come  to  share  the  woes  of  human  love, 

Thou  alightest  unawares  on  the  grain-filled  barn  of 
the  humble  farmer;  awakening  Nature's  maiden 
hearts,  thou  informest  love. 

It  is  thy  delight  to  see  woman  love  man,  the  small 
ripplings  of  a  human  heart  in  love  flutter  thee 
in  thy  lofty  seat, 

Thou  art  the  soul  liberated  through  love,  thou  knowest 
the  worth  of  love,  flying  for  its  sake  even  midst 
the  cities'  smoke  and  dust,  perchance,  to  save  a 
human  soul  through  love ! ! 


PARAS,  THE  PHILOSOPHER'S  STONE 

Paras!  Thou  art  so  mixed  with  common  stones  that 
only  the  straying  sheep  may  chance  to  strike 
thee  with  her  small  sharp-pointed  hoof,  so 
discovering  thee! 

When  the  shepherd  sees  the  foot  of  his  sheep  agleam 
with  gold,  he  says  to  his  comrades,  as  together 
they  sit  and  spin  the  wool,  mixing  black  with 
white, — 

"O  comrades!  Be  sure  the  ancient  Paras  truly  lives, 
as  proved  by  the  gleam  in  the  sheep's  foot." 

Thus  a  poor  shepherd  here  and  there,  who  has  a  few 
sheep  and  a  staff  and  a  black  blanket  for  his  all, 
but  with  a  love-rich  heart  and  eyes  that  look  up 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL         7 

to  Heaven  when  in  need,  owns  the  proof  that 

it  is. 
Paras  !   that  thou  art  with  us  in  this  world  is  known, 

yet  countless  eyes  have  roamed  over  the  drifting 

sea  of  boulders  in  vain!! 
No   wise   man's   seeking   nor  longing   ever   found   thy 

transmuting  crystal,  not  a  glimpse  of  thee  had 

they  though  lives  on  lives  were  spent  in  search 

of  thee. 
In  vain  we  look  for  thee  in  stones,  thou  art  in  the  eyes 

of  the  saint,  in  Simran  deep. 
The  divine-made  man  is  Paras,  Paras  is  Hari  Nam,  a 

saint  whose  touch  transmutes  all  baser  metals 

into  gold! 
If  he  looks  at  a  courtesan,  she  is  transmuted  by  his 

glance,   her  metal  is   changed;    she   becomes   a 

virgin-goddess   and  a  saint! 
The  robbers,  the  thieves,  the  rogues  and  cut-throats 

turn  their  backs   on  sin   and  face  the   Sun  of 

Righteousness,  when  once  through  their  blood 

and  bone  vibrates  a  single  glance  of  Nam, 
When  once  the  Master  wills,  the  chambers  of  thought 

are  washed,  the  veils  lift  up,  and  lost  and  un- 
claimed men  are  made  sons  of  God. 
When  once  the  Man  of  God  arises  in  Man,  all  lower 

desires  and  soilings  gathered  in  lives  bygone  are 

blown  away  as  the  sun  blows  off  by  its  golden 

breath  the  night. 
The  Transmuter  of  men  is  Hari  Nam,  he  is  Paras,  his 

is  the  art  of  alchemy. 
One  metal  may  change  into  another,  the  copper  into 

gold,    even   one   tree  into   another,   the   thorny 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

Acacia  into  the  scented  Sandal,  but  what  are 
these  changes  worth,  if  his  glance  come  not 
vibrating  through  me,  and  change  not  my  metal 
by  blending  his  soul  with  mine,  and  lift  me  up 
into  the  Sky  by  his  higher  life  of  love  and  God  ? 


THE  WOMAN 
I 

A  MAN  of  Simran  passed  a  street  where  the  Sisters  of 
the  Spinning  Wheel,  the  maidens  of  the  Town, 
had  gathered! 

They  had  gathered  to  sing  love-songs  of  older  days; 

They  had  gathered  to  raise  from  their  virgin  throats 
the  ancient  notes  of  human  love,  to  rouse  the 
hearts  of  men  to  woman's  greatness! 

They  had  gathered  to  sing  the  woman,  her  greatness 
for  song,  for  love,  for  tenderness  of  heart,  and 
for  her  faith  in  Man,  and  her  worship  of  him, 
how  steadfast  she,  like  the  patient  earth,  in  his 
service, 

She  loves  and  calls  him  her  God!! 

Her  eyes  look  up  to  no  higher  Heaven  beyond  the  love 
of  her  man,  faithful  in  life  to  him  and  ah!  in 
her  death ! ! 

II 

The  saint  paused  to  look  at  them  and  his  mind  turned  to 
thought.  "Ah!  could  I  love  my  Beloved  with 
the  faith  of  a  woman,  could  I  sing  so  well  and 
could  I  call  Him  as  the  love-strains  of  the  village 
girls  call  their  own,  could  I  have  the  heart  of  a 


woman,  her  jealousy  of  belief  and  love  for  one 
man,  her  oneness  of  mind  and  heart  and  bone 
and  blood  and  flesh  for  her  love! 

Ah!  could  I  have  her  spirit  of  infinite  patience  that 
waits  for  love  without  a  thought  or  a  wish  to  be 
seen  or  felt  by  the  vulgar  world  around;  her 
tender  bosom  doth  conceal  volcanoes  of  love's 
fires,  beneath  the  simple  flowers  blowing  on  the 
snows  of  her  face  so  calm,  and  yet  so  unwilling 
to  confess — '  I  love.' 

On  her  lips  no  complaints  arise,  her  dimpling  smiles 
tell  that  her  gladness  consists  in  seeing  him  whom 
once  she  calls  her  own. 

Be  it  favours  now  or  frowns,  it  is  well  for  her  as  he  wills! 

Her  soul  lives  in  the  joy  of  the  life  she  adores. 

For  her,  her  Man  can  never  die. 

No  true  woman  deems  herself  a  widow;  whether  he  be 
gone  to  distant  lands,  or  gone  to  the  Master's 
country  yonder,  she  waits  for  him;  her  Man 
is  sure  to  come  back,  her  Man  for  ever  hers,  no 
death  can  untie  the  knot  of  her  arms  that  wreathe 
him  close  to  her  tender  bosom  in  love. 

It  is  the  sacred  knot  that  God  has  tied  with  His  own 
Hands.  Who  can  sunder  two  that  He  joins 
in  one  ?  Angels  and  prophets  give  them  aid. 

Ill 

"  The  Satee-woman  of  love  conceals  a  hero-soul  in  her 
tender  frame,  her  courage  rings  along  the  aisles  of 
Heaven,  her  eyes  can  call  the  Kingdom  of  God 
to  help  if  worlds  oppose!! 


io       SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

She  is  a  hidden  sacrifice,  her  love  only  Gods  know,  she 
is  fate  almighty; — so  made  by  the  love  of  man. 

Meseems  the  Disciple  too  has  the  soul  of  a  Satee,  he 
loves  none  else  but  his  beloved  Master! 

Like  the  Satee,  his  soul  sings  of  love  in  the  storm-girt 
silence  of  All-death,  his  every  part  tingles  like 
a  string  with  the  music  of  faith  in  love! 

Like  her,  he  too  conceals  his  love  and  makes  a  whole 
Heaven  to  dwell  invisible  within  his  house  of 
flesh." 

IV 

Thus  did  the  saint  praise  woman's  soul,  as  he  gazed 
at  the  women  and  heard  their  songs  and  stood 
amidst  them  day  by  day. 

These  love  songs  of  the  Five  Rivers  are  great,  how 
sweet  the  vibrations  that  fill  even  a  saint  with 
holiness! 

The  longings  of  simple  human  hearts  are  immortal. 

The  village  girl,  simple  and  untaught,  has  a  secret  hope 
to  capture  the  lover  and  owner  of  her  heart 
with  nothing  at  all;  she  longs  to  have  a  home 
and  a  husband  for  whose  pleasure  she  should 
toil  and  work;  she  longs  to  serve  the  children 
of  her  Lord.  She  toils  and  sweats  for  the  joys 
of  the  rain  of  his  kisses  on  her  lips  and  face, 
behind  the  veil. 

She  longs  to  bear  him  children,  for  the  sunshine  of 
whose  life  they  both  shall  wait  through  a 
thousand  days  of  tears. 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL       n 


V 

In  singing  procession,  the  crowd  of  the  Sisters  of  the 
Spinning  Wheel  passed  on  to  the  Hall  of  the 
Spinning  Wheel,  the  Trinjan,1  the  saint  followed 
behind  unseen. 

Each  girl  sat  before  her  own  scarlet  wheel,  her  little 
heart-cup  brimming  over  with  maiden  joy  and 
pride  of  youth. 

Each  girl  a  princess  whirs  her  spinning  wheel  and  hums 
to  it  some  simple  tragic  song  of  love! 

VI 

THE  STORY  OF  "  SASI  "  AND  "  PUNUN  " 

IN  Trinjans  of  the  Punjab  still  pass  the  camels  of 
Punun  laden  with  the  Treasure  of  Sasi's  heart, 
and  behind  them  comes  Sasi,  Princess  of  the 
Punjab,  bewailing  herself. 

One  single  night  of  joy  they  had  together,  and  before 
the  morn  had  opened  her  eyes,  the  Camel  drivers 
from  Punun's  home  came  and  stole  the  sleeping 
Punun  from  Sasi's  Arms  and  drove  the  Camels 
across  the  sands  of  Sasi's  lands. 

1  Trinjan  is  the  name  of  the  hall  where  the  girls  of  the  city 
sit  together  each  with  her  own  wheel  to  spin  the  cotton  yarn. 
Once  it  used  to  be  the  very  heart  and  centre  of  a  home  industry, 
as  out  of  the  cloth  made  by  the  spinnings  of  these  girls  the 
parents  used  to  make  the  marriage  dowry  for  their  daughters. 
The  charms  of  domestic  life  of  the  old  Punjab  are  soon  dis- 
appearing. Vulgar  life  of  imitation-civilisation  is  replacing  an 
old  fragrant  life.  The  scent  of  Mehdi  and  Koosambha  is  replaced 
by  alcoholic  lavender  to  our  great  misfortune. 


12       SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

O!  why  did  the  lovers  drink  the  draughts  of  sleep? 
Sasi's  Prince  of  men  was  gone!! 

Sasi  comes  seeking  still  her  Prince  of  Love  and  there 
searching  the  sands  she  dies  still  love-a thirst! 

The  Maidens  of  the  Spinning  Wheel  sing  the  tragedy 
in  a  choric  song,  and  bury  Sasi  in  the  dust  of 
songs.  From  that  dust  maidenhood  blooms  up 
anew,  and  Sasi's  sisters  wish  again  to  love. 

No  death  can  kill  Sasi,  nor  camels  take  away  Punun 
from  the  Punjab,  for  we  daily  see  them  pass  in 
visions  of  love;  the  camels  pass  before  the 
half-closed  eyes  of  love-lorn  dreamy  girls! 

THE  STORY  OF  "  SOHNI  MAHIWAL  "  l 

Sohni  Mahiwal  is  another  tale  of  love; 

It  tells  of  a  Punjabi  maiden  of  Gujrat,  a  potter's  daugh- 
ter, a  maiden  of  wondrous  beauty,  who  casts 
a  spell  on  the  son  of  a  merchant-prince  of 
Bukhara,  without  her  knowing  of  it  at  all! 

His  caravan  stops  there  in  Sobni's  town,  he  pretends 
to  trade  in  Gujrat  vessels  of  clay;  he  goes  to 
the  potter's  house  and  buys  the  earthen  vessels 
as  Sobni  comes  laden  with  pieces  of  her  father's 
ware  for  sale. 

He  buys  dear  and  sells  cheap,  an  ideal  merchant! 

He  tosses  away  his  coins  for  the  sake  of  a  glimpse  of 
his  God.  Ah!  to  bask  in  the  beaming  sun  of 
her  face,  somehow  to  feel  blessed,  though  for 
a  moment,  in  peace  of  her  presence!! 

1  Mahiwal  is  the  name  of  the  cowherd  who  grazes  cows  and 
buffaloes  and  looks  after  them.  He  is  a  poorly  paid  man,  with 
a  shirt  of  home-made  coarse  cotton  cloth  and  a  black  blanket, 
armed  with  a  long  staff,  and  this  is  his  all. 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL        13 

Sohni  is  beautiful  to  him  as  nothing  else  is,  his  Faqir- 
eyes  see  in  her  such  rare  perfection  of  curve  and 
line! 

Here  doth  the  heart  of  the  wild  lover  from  distant 
Iran  break  up  the  chains  of  self-control;  he  falls 
on  his  trembling  knees  to  worship  Man  and  God 
and  Love,  in  this  one  form ;  he  is  half  faint  from 
the  bewildering  perfume  sent  forth  by  her  youth- 
scented  tresses ;  half  lost  in  wonder  and  worship 
of  this  grand  love  that  makes  kings  the  slaves 
of  joy; — the  joy  of  being  enchained  with  the 
maiden-braids  of  a  young  girl  that  knows  not 
the  charm  of  her  self  and  the  joy  in  her  blossom- 
ing youth,  that  delicate  maiden-strength  that 
seems  to  mock  at  strong  Death. 

The  followers  are  all  gone!  the  camels  and  horses  all 
are  sold,  one  by  one  the  jewels  and  gems  he  had, 
no  thought  of  return,  nor  of  the  morrow,  daunted 
the  Persian  Prince! 

The  brave  Irani  at  last  was  penniless! 

The  potter  of  Gujrat  made  him  his  Mabiwdl  for  debts 
unpaid;  no  pity  did  he  show  to  his  customer, 
once  so  rich  and  great  and  handsome! 

But  wings  of  rumour  slowly  scattered  on  the  air  the 
news  that  Sohni  now  is  deep  in  love! 

To  save  the  honour  of  the  potter's  house  the  potter 
marries  his  daughter  to  some  one  else. 

The  Mahiwal  is  turned  away  from  Gujrat  in  ruin! 

The  hospitable  banks  of  the  Chenab  give  a  hut  to  the 
Mahiwal  and  Sohni  too  is  his! 

No  daughter  of  the  Punjab  could  dream  of  another 
Man,  for  her  the  world  has  but  one,  when  found 


14       SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

it  is  all.  She  gives  herself  to  him  and  no  foolish 
rites  of  marriage  nor  law  nor  false  honour  nor 
shame  deter  her  mind  nor  daunt  her  soul  from 
loving  the  Man  she  loves. 

She  keeps  her  vow  of  love  and  her  word  with  gods,  she 
saves  the  honour  of  the  land  where  she  is  born, 
faithful  to  her  Man  and  God,  never  mind  what 
the  world  says  or  rumour  does! 

Sohni  still  swims  at  secret  time  of  night  across  the 
Chenab  to  see  her  Persian  Prince. 

No  boat  she  has  but  a  pitcher  of  baked  clay; — the 
potter's  daughter  holds  by  the  floating  pitcher, 
as  she  daily  crosses  the  river  Chenab,  in  the  name 
of  God  and  Mahiwal. 

Her  sister-in-law  exchanges  one  night  Sohnfs  boat  of 
clay  concealed  in  a  secret  lonely  bush  with  a 
false-dyed,  unbaked  pitcher!  And  it  is  too  late 
when  Sohni,  dressed  in  the  darkness  of  the  night, 
takes  it  in  her  hand. 

Be  as  it  may,  life  or  no  life,  to-night  too  she  still  must 
swim  across  to  him  or  else  how  could  she  live 
through  the  night!  It  was  pitch  dark,  the  night 
was  stormy  and  the  Chenab  was  in  flood;  the 
sky  thundered  high  as  she  plied  her  hands  and 
swam  between  the  bloodthirsty  death-mouthed 
waves ! ! 

The  Sisters  of  the  Spinning  Wheel  sing  still  how  Sohni 
cried  to  the  God  of  waters  then. 

"  O  Khwaja!  Kkizar  .n  drown  me  not  on  my  way  to 
Mahiwal,  let  me  only  swim  across  to  my  love, 

1  He  is  the  God  of  waters  according  to  the  Arabic  and  Persian 
mythology. 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL       15 

but  on  my  way  back  from  him,  take  my  life  as 
thou  willst,  I  shall  have  no  complaint,  but  take 
me  safe  across  to  my  Mahiwalll  " 

How  her  soul  rises  strong  when  the  waves  engulf  her; 
it  cries  supreme: — "  Drown  me!  O  Khizar! 
if  thou  willst,  come,  try,  and  drown  me  now! 
What,  wilt  thou  sink  my  flesh  and  bones !  Take 
this  flesh  and  take  these  bones,  I  must  fly  across 
to  my  Mahiwall  God's  golden  strings  of  love 
bind  me  with  him  so  fast  that  thy  waters  can- 
not untie  them,  I  am  my  MahiwaFs  life. 

My  soul  shall  soar,  breaking  all  thy  waters,  straight 
on  to  where  my  Mahiwdl  waits  for  me.  Drown 
me,  Khizar!  drown,  drown  me  as  thou  willst." 

Such  cries  of  Sohni's  soul  are  heard  still  from  sweet 
little  throats  of  the  Sisters  of  the  Spinning 
Wheel  and  they  repeat  her  message  to  her  Sisters 
of  the  Punjab  Trinjans.  The  winds  and  waters 
carry  her  screams  in  all  the  four  directions. 
Her  soul  passes,  still  whispering  to  every  Punjabi 
heart  the  power  of  love! 

In  Trinjans  of  the  Punjab,  her  comrades  still  celebrate 
the  jubilee  of  her  death! 

Sobni's  land  is  filled  with  songs  of  Sohni  and  all  hearts 
beat  with  pride;  our  daughters  are  so  great 
though  they  look  like  simple  village  maids,  so 
rude  and  illiterate! 

Their  ways  of  love  we  men  imitate  till  we  become  as 
strong  in  love  of  our  Creator  as  they! 

We  snatch  the  tunes  from  their  transparent  throats 
and  fill  with  their  cadence  our  hearts  to  make 
them  pure  and  intense ! 


1 6       SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

The  simple  Punjabi  songs  are  like  the  light  of  morn  to 
men  who  follow  the  divine  love,  they  are  part  of 
the  Punjab  food  of  saints;  on  the  soil  of  the 
Punjab  the  saints  live  well! 

VII 

The  saint  saw  how  small  yet  how  great  is  the  measure 
of  joy  of  the  Sisters  of  the  Spinning  Wheel!! 

A  mother-sent  loaf  of  bread  is  enough! 

A  jug  of  water  and  a  song  sung  in  chorus  with  the 
whirring  wheels  and  humming  throats,  is  enough ! 

Enough  are  the  rain-delights,  the  mango-blossoms  are 
their  wealth ! ! 

They  feel  the  blossoms  hanging  on  the  trees,  as  ear- 
rings in  their  own  ears!  They  pluck  them  not, 
for  very  joy !  The  very  sight  of  blossoms  hanging 
is  delicious  enough  for  them. 

The  hope  of  pleasing  the  mother  by  spinning  well; 
the  hope  of  taking  a  basket  of  bobbins  home  to 
win  the  approving  word  from  the  mother,  such 
is  the  innocent  maiden  life  of  the  Punjab  that 
the  saint  saw,  and  it  pleased  him  well! 

How  lovely  are  the  gentle  ways  of  unlettered  maidens ! 

The  saint  then  murmured  unto  himself: — "Oh!  why 
should  not  I  work  at  my  wheel  and  spin  all  day 
and  night,  fine  and  well,  ah!  as  well  as  they  do, 
lost  in  joyous  labour  of  love,  simple  as  a  song, 
and  gain  honour  from  my  own  Lord  ? 

What  use  are  honours  won  abroad,  if  one  is  looked 
down  upon  at  home  ? 

I  must  labour  as  these  girls  toil  to  please  the  mother." 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL       17 

The  saint  said: — "The  heart  of  the  Punjab  girl  is  the 
convent  where  worship  of  the  son  of  Man  is 
taught. 

The  heart  of  woman  is  the  Temple  where  Man  is  en- 
shrined as  God, 

The  Punjab  is  great  for  the  love  of  Man  more  than  for 
the  love  of  God." 

VIII 

The  visions  of  the  Trinjans  are  fresh, 

Immortal  is  the  past  in  innocent  youth  and  lives  again 

all  in  the  mind  of  Man] 
Great  are  the  Sisters  of  the  Spinning  Wheel! 
They  have  the  secret  charm  with  which  they  call  the 

spirits  of  the  past  to  come  and  talk  to  them. 
Hir l  comes  and  sings  again  the  tunes  of  her  heart  to 

maidens  of  the  town: — 
"  The  foolish  world  knows  Rdnjba  as  a  man,  my  Rdnjba 

is  my  God,  0  Sisters  of  the  Spinning  Wheel! 
The  foolish  world  calls  him  a  cowherd,  a  mere  man,  to 

me  the  whole  world  is  he,  and  God! 
My  soul  repeats  '  Rdnjha  !    Rdnjba  !  '    this  repetition 

is  my  Namdz\\  "  2 

IX 

The  saint  sees  a  wondrous  vision  in  the  Trinjans. 

There  yonder  Rdnjbd  is  seated  on  a  buffalo's  back  with 
his  lute  on  his  lips,  and  the  buffalo  standing  in 
knee-deep  water  of  a  grassy  swamp. 

1  Hir  and  Rdnjha  is  a  love  story  of  the  same  type  as  Sohni 
Mahiwdl. 

1  Namaz  is  the  Arabic  word  used  for  prayer,  used  by  the 
Prophet  Mohammed. 


i8       SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

From  this  side  is  seen  going  the  Princess  Hir  with  a 

dish  of  sweets  for  her  Ranjha,  and  straight  she 

goes  to  Ranjha  looking  neither  to  the  right  nor 

to  the  left, 
"  Come!   have  a  morsel,  friend!   from  the  day-break  you 

have  had  nothing.    I  bring  you  this  dish  I  made 

myself." 
"  But  my  hands  are  dusty,"  says  Ranjha,  "  why  have 

you   not   brought   some   water   for   washing,    O 

Beloved  ?  " 
"  Forgive  me,  Ranjha,  I  forgot;    but  wash  your  hands, 

here  flows  water ! !  " 
Below'  he  "^washes  his   hands,   as   tears   roll  down  her 

eyes  like  a  trickling  little  waterfall! 
Thus  Ranjha  was  feasted  by  his  love  in  the  open  wastes 

of  Chenab ! 

X 

Says  another  sister  of  the  Spinning  Wheel: — 

(i) 

Mother  beats  me,  I  cannot  work,  she  asked  me  to  fill 
her  earthen  lamp  with  oil,  but  my  hands  shook, 
I  know  not  why  the  oil  fell  on  the  ground! 

I  do  not  know  why  I  cannot  work  nor  help  my  mother 
nor  spin  the  thread ! 

0  comrades !  say  what  secret  life  is  this  ? 

My  youth  is  now  a  pain,  yet  without  it  I  cannot  live; 
O  say  why  pain  is  such  a  pleasure  ? 

1  know  not  why  my  mother  rebukes  me. 

She  once  sent  me  to  light  a  lamp  from  the  flame  of  a 
neighbour's  lamp.  See!  my  comrades!  this 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL       19 

finger  of  mine  is  burned;    I  know  not  why  my 

finger  was  burned.    I  was  but  just  lighting  the 

earthen  lamp ! 
You  are  a  simple  girl  that  knows  not  how  to  conceal 

what  can  never  be  concealed ! 
We  know  you  have  seen  the  Son  of  Man,  your  youth 

cries  for  its  owner,  your  heart  needs  the  shade 

of  a  Man. 

O  comrade!  say,  you  are  in  love  with  a  Man! 
Your  finger  is  burned;    but  you  were  not  there  when 

lighting  the  lamp  1 
Your  hand  carelessly  slipped  the  wick  aside  and  your 

finger  touched  the  flame  that  burnt  it;   but  you 

were  not  there,  your  eyes  had  strayed  to  the  Man! 
O  comrade!    tell  us  the  name  of  the  Man,  and  confess 

to  us,  say,  you  are  in  love. 
We  will  tell  your  mother  now,  we  will  ask  for  Henna 

leaves,  we  will  dye  your  hands  and  feet. 
We  will  put  on  you  this  Madder-dyed  shawl! 
We  will  weave  your  maiden  braids ! 
We  will  sing  your  wedding  songs,  you  will  be  now  our 

love-lit  bride. 
O  comrade,  say,  what  share  of  joy  will  be  given  us,  the 

Sisters  of  the  Spinning  Wheel ! 

(2) 

0  Sisters  of  the  Spinning  Wheel! 

1  dreamt  last  night,  the  stars  of  Heaven  grouped  round 

my  head;   I  wore  them  all  in  my  tiara,  I  looked 
a  Queen. 
I  swam  in  air,  I  stood  above  the  clouds,  my  hair  floated 


20       SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

free  in  space,   my  shirt  of  cloth  was   dazzling 
white,  my  shawl  of  home-spun  cotton  dyed  with 
majith  shed  its  colour  on  the  snowtops  that  lay 
below  and  lit  the  horizon  in  eastern  tints! 
What  does  my  dream  mean  ?   O  comrades  mine ! 

Thou  art  a  creeper  in  full  youth  of  leaf  and  flower  and 

vigour  of  sap. 
Thy  dream  calls  a  figure  of  Man  from  the  starry  world 

and  he  shall  be  the  King  and  thou  his  Queen! 
The  stars  do  crown  with  glory  the  woman  wedded  to 

love  of  Man. 
Thus  do  the  gods  honour  the  wedded  woman!   it  is  the 

sign  of  thy  wedlock  union  with  thy  Man. 
The  god  of  love  visits  thee  in  thy  sleep  and  makes  thee 

rich  with  Heavenly  Love! 


The    saint   turned    aside    and    murmured    to    himself, 
"What    a   saint  is   the  girl  in  love!!" 


XI 

The  saint  comes  oft  and  again  to  bow  before  the  youth 

and  song  of  beautiful  maidens. 
He  finds  delight  in  the  blossoming  flowers  of  Youth, 

a  trance  in  the  flowing  life-perfuming  tresses. 
The  roses  are  no  sweeter,  the  snows  are  nowhere  purer, 

than  in  the  holy  face  of  a  youth-unconscious  girl ! 
No  fires  burn  brighter,  no  stars  are  quieter  than  her 

eyes,  the  eyes  that  see  the  Figure  of  one  she 

loves ! 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL       21 

XII 

THE  WEDDING 

SHE  has  almost  forgotten  if  she  lives  and  moves,  as  her 
soul  drinks  deep  of  the  Fount  of  Vision  that  makes 
the  Sun  a  dream,  and  the  Night  but  a  Palanquin 
in  which  the  stars  bear  the  Bride  on  high! 

As  the  wedding  day  approaches,  her  life  seems  to  be 
ebbing  from  her;  her  dress  is  old  and  tattered,  her 
hair  in  sweet  confusion! 

Her  mind  is  still,  all  thought  of  self-adornment  is  gone 
from  her. 

All  is  quiet  in  that  great  Hush  when  maidenhood 
sleeps,  and  wakes  a  new,  new  love ! 

Her  hair  is  dishevelled;  the  bosom  heaves,  her  heart 
quakes  in  a  thousand  reveried  waitings  for 
things  to  be,  in  a  half  unwilling  consent. 

Her  lips  are  athirst,  her  arms  vibrate  with  an  unknown 
passion  for  life  yet  unknown.  As  the  blood 
glows  beneath  the  skin,  so  all  knowledge  of  the 
life  to  come  is  behind  a  veil! 

She  almost  faints  with  hope;  this  moment,  pale  and 
white  and  cold  as  the  dead;  the  next,  a  flame 
springs  from  below  her  ashes ! 

Her  child-like  rebel  pride,  her  naughtiness  is  over — 
"  I  am  the  sister  of  my  brave  brothers  and  the 
daughter  of  my  kingly  Father!  How  fine  is 
my  Spinning  Wheel;  how  high  is  the  Door  of 
our  House,  where  camels  wait  and  horses  neigh; 
how  full  are  our  stores  with  wheat !  " 

The  sky  is  below  her  feet;    all  the  world,  she  thinks, 

must  wait  upon  her  joy ! 
E 


22       SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

It  is  no  sin  to  be  proud  like  this;   no  death  to  be  dead 

like  this,  at  the  feet  of  Love ! 

In  a  few  days,  she  has  grown  so  thin  and  frail,  that 
she  appears  to  live  outside  her  physical  frame; 
her  sisters  support  her  as  she  rises  to  go,  they 
give  her  food  and  drink. 

Ah !   she  is  but  a  shadow  of  her  days  of  laughter : 
For  day  and  night  pass  alike  in  the  silent  chambers 

of  her  soul. 

Her  lacquered  wheel  in  Trinjans  waits,  and  there  it 
shall  wait  for  ever; 

And  the  Mango-groves  are  waiting  for  the  joyous 
notes  she  sang.  They  still  remember  her,  swim- 
ming in  air  on  her  scarlet  swing,  hung  with 
hempen  ropes  on  their  high  branches.  They 
remember  how  she  shook  with  sheer  delight 
their  long  boughs;  and  what  a  rapturous  dance 
of  leaves  there  was  as  she  swung. 

The  Mango-groves  shall  wait  for  her  for  ever! 

The  village  street  that  feels  her  joyous  tread  is  sad. 

The  daughter  of  the  town  is  to  be  wed! 

Over  and  done  with  is  the  life  of  her  father's  roof,  and 
spent  are  the  days  of  her  babyhood,  childhood 
and  girlhood. 

She  dies  away  into  Love,  a  fit  farewell  to  companions 
of  her  girlhood ! 

The  Mango  sees  and  the  Peepal  tree! 

The  scarlet  wheel  is  witness  of  what  has  happened! 

The  eyes  of  parents  are  filled  with  tears  as  they  hurry 
about  in  joy  of  the  wedding  day  of  their  pretty 
daughter ! 

The  brothers'  silent  soliloquies  disturb  the  village  air! — 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL       23 

"  Is  my  sister  to  go  away  from  us,  and  from  the  roof 

below  which  she  was  born  ?    Will  she  leave  us 

for  ever  ?  " 
"  Who    shall    take    my    sister  ?"    speaks    the    younger 

brother,  "  We  are  mighty,  we  will  die,  but  we 

will  not  let  our  sister  go!  " 
The  village  drums  are  beating;    the  fingers  of  all  the 

village  women  gently  tap  the  drums,  and  bid 

them  sing  for  mirth  and  merriment! 
The  drums  resound  with  songs  that  rise  ringing  from 

the  silver  throats  of  the  village  wives  and  fair 

daughters ! 

The  House  is  holy  where  one  has  died  in  Love! 
Rejoicings  fill  the  town,  and  all  feel  rich  because  they 

are  giving  the  Bride  to  Love! 
The   earthen  lamp  is   burning  day  and   night  in  the 

Bridal  chamber  as  a  symbol  of  her  heart. 
As  the  lamp  lights  the  room,  her  heart   shall   light 

a  Home  with  Heaven's  glow  ;   burning  steady 

and  calm,  like  her  life,  in  the  service  of  dear 

Love. 

And  by  her  sit  the  Sisters  of  the  Spinning  Wheel! 
Well  might  the  Queen  of  the  three  worlds  envy  the 

tenderness  of  soul  they  pour  at  the  feet  of  the 

Bride-Queen! 

They  understand,  and  they  do  heru  nuttered  commands. 
Each  daughter  of  the  Punjab  is  a  Queen;    as  is  well 

known  to  the  Sisters  of  the  Spinning  Wheel! 
They  know  the  worth  of  Love,  of  the  stars  that  keep  a 

solemn,  sacred  watch!! 
The  All-Provider  makes  the  poorest  father  richer  than 

kings ! 


24       SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

Ah !   how  he  gives  his  all ! 

He  gives  his  very  self  to  Love.  No  leaf  can  be  torn 
from  even  a  tree  without  shedding  a  drop  of 
its  blood ! 

"Come,  brothers!  come,"  the  voices  call  within; 
"and  dye  the  hands  of  your  sister  now!" 
"  The  eldest  first !  Here  take  these  marble- 
hands  and  dye  the  palms  with  these  Mehdi 
leaves." 

The  hands  are  cold ;  with  tears  in  his  eyes  the  brother 
puts  on  her  palms  the  Mehdi  leaves ! 

They  have  bathed  the  Bride,  and  laved  her  hair.  Her 
maiden  tresses  they  have  combed,  and  parted 
them  in  the  middle  with  the  perfumed  wax; 
full  smooth  is  the  hair  on  either  side;  a  little 
vermilion  traces  the  parting  line  of  her  tresses! 

The  Bride  is  veiled  in  splendour  of  gorgeous  silk  in  folds, 
embroidered  with  gold-thread  and  gems. 

They  adorn  the  Bride  and  sing  the  songs  in  whose  joys 
the  man  is  man,  a  peasant,  or  a  prince! 

A  thousand  songs  float  in  the  air;  every  moment  new 
tears  flow  and  new  feelings  rise  from  depths 
below. 

The  Sun  and  Moon  stand  on  Dharma l  that  gives  a 
soul  to  another  for  the  sake  of  Love. 

Heaven  comes  down  to  earth  to  kiss  the  Bride  almost 
dead  in  new,  new  Love! 

Out  of  space  the  angels  gather,  and  sing  in  Chorus  with 
the  Sisters  of  the  Spinning  Wheel  the  Triumph 

of  Love ! ! 

1  The  law  of  being. 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL       25 


XIII 

The  Saint  saw  all  this  from  day  to  day  and  said: — 
"  Boast  not,  O  Saints!  God  is  great.  On  all  his 
creatures  He  bestows  these  moments  of  the 
loftiest  Love  of  Man  to  Man!  How  sublime  this 
surrender  of  the  Bride  to  the  Bridegroom  in 
Love! 

Would  I  could  die,  like  her,  to  this  House  of  my  child- 
hood, and  wake  in  that  House  of  Love! 

Would  I  could  bid,  like  her,  that  silent  deep  Farewell! 

But  my  soul!   is  this  all  what  they  call  Death?  " 


POEMS  OF  A  SIKH 


POEMS    OF    A    SIKH 

THE  UNKNOWN  GOD 

THE  TURBAN'D  MAN 

A  TURBAN'D  Man!  The  owner  of  the  skies! 

I  hear  his  footfalls  in  the  garden  of  my  heart,  my  life 
throbs  in  his  lotus  feet ! 

Eternal  are  his  Turban  Folds  of  Love! 

The  planets  wait  as  birds  in  nests  as  at  close  of  night, 
for  the  Dawn  that  breaks  above  them. 

He  is  the  king  of  Creation's  heart;  he  wears  the  crown 
of  love-grown  cotton  and  love-spun  thread  and 
love-woven  cloth. 

His  crown  is  made  of  the  rolling  Waves  of  the  Sea  of 
Light! 

Has  not  the  Sun  dropped  from  those  Turban  Folds  ? 

The  stars  were  scattered  abroad  at  night  in  the  sky, 

Above  them  I  saw  the  Edge  of  his  Crown  of  Mists ! 

The  Beaming  Faces  said,  "  Tis  Mid-night  Moon,"  but 
I,  of  the  lower  rank  than  they,  at  night,  while 
digging  earth,  murmured  slowly  to  myself 
within,  lest  someone  heard  my  word:  It  is  the 
light,  the  light  from  his  Turbanned  Brow. 

AN  UNKNOWN  MAN 

AN  Unknown  Man,  who  roams  disguised  on  earth! 
He  picked  me  up  from  a  heap  of  the  Dead  at  night, 
and  on  his  back  he  took  me  to  his  hut, 
29 


30       SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

Awake  at  nights,  he  nursed  and  made  me  whole; 
Heaven  streamed  through  the  windows  of  his  Eyes  and 

lit  my  Soul  with  the  Fiery  Dream  of  Dawn, 
I  forgot  him  in  his  gift  of  Life  to  me, 
And  He  helped  me  to  forget,  him.    Such  is  Youth!   how 

it  forgets  its  maker! 

An  Unknown  Man  who  roams  disguised  on  earth! 
I  find  him  still  with  me,  he  aids  me  on. 

THE  MAN  WHO  BECOMES  ME 

BORN  of  Mother  Earth,  and  Father  Heaven,  that  Man 

who  is  becoming  me, 
His  feelings  are  not  like  my  feelings,  his  love  hath  not 

the  looks  of  love,  his  glances  beam  with  God-like 

meaning  in  silent  depth  of  depths! 
His  Earth-like  love!   His  annoying  Silence! 
The  Seed,  the  Earth,  the  Air,  the  Water, — he  that  enfolds 

me  within,  and  makes  of  me  a  Flower  Free,  a 

Fruit,  a  sweet  Perfume  and  tells  me  it  is   I  who 

grow  and  bloom. 
Born  of  the  Mother  Earth,   the  Father  Heaven,   the 

Man  who  is  being  made  into  me. 

THE  MAN  IN  ME 

THE  Man  in  me!   Who  lives  within  unseen! 

Within  my  brows  I  bear  his  brows,  in  my  hair,  his  hair, 

In  my  bones,  his  bones,  I  feel  his  heart  in  mine. 

With  him  I  am,  I  know,  the  Son  of  God  for  whose  joy 

and  glory  all  Creation  waits, 
And  without  him,   I  am  an  emptied  shell,    a    cry,    a 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL       31 

wandering  wail,  less  than  the  worm  that  creeps 

in  fallen  wood,  less  than  the  weed  that  grows  in 

mud! 
But  no!   the  man  in  me,  he  watches,  he  sees,  he  leaves 

me  not; 
Hail,  Master!   Son  of  Man! 

THE  MAN  IN  ME,  AND  NOT  IN  ME 

THE  Man  in  me!    And  not  in  me!    He  comes  and  goes 

of  his  own  accord ! 

I  remain  as  a  vacant  house  with  silent  walls  and  dust. 
A  strange  friend  who  has  his  own  laws  of  love,  he  would 

leave  me,  as  if  never  to  return; 
But  then  comes  he  in  a  flood  of  rain  of  tears! 
He  makes  me  wait  as  a  woman  waits  for  man,  but  Ah! 

the  moment  when  he  strains  me  in  his  Embrace ! 

What  am  I  ?   But  a  peal  of  bells,  a  song! ! 
Each  hair  of  mine  grows  a  tongue  and  enchanted  bathes 

in  holy  bliss  and  grateful  wonder! 
Each  pore  of  mine  is  nectar-laved,  my  very  flesh  cries : 

"Hail,  Holy  one!" 

WHEN  ?   I  KNOW  NOT! 

WHEN  ?   I  know  not !  My  dawn  might  break  at  night ! 
My  man  might  return  to  me  in  sleep,  in  dreams  lovelit 

with  the  splendour  of  a  thousand  days ! ! 
And  a  thousand  may  be  the   number  of  my  forlorn 

nights ! ! 
One  moment  but  of  this  Fairy  sleep  so  condenses  for 

me,  Life,  Love,  Faith,  Joy,  God,  Man,  Heaven 

and  earth  in  one. 


32        SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

I  sleep  with  my  soul  aching  and  wake  with  the  song  of 

Hail,  Lord!  on  my  lips  and  tongue, 
And  happy  life  like  a  wave  flows  in  a  thousand  streams 

from  translucent  walls  of  flesh  that  should  retain 

it  all, 

But  it  flows  to  rivers,  rocks  and  air  and  all. 
I  give  a  feast  of  myself  to  the  Universe ! 

THE  SILVER  FEET 

THE  Soaring  One  of  the  shining  Silver  Feet!! 

They  are  his  feet  that  in  their  silver  flight  trail  in  my 

heart ! 
My  eyes  like  two  crying  cranes  soar  after  him  in  the 

holy  Blue  of  Heaven. 
Afar  he  flies ! 
And  from  the  invisible  heights  come  no  news,  but   a 

shower  of  Bliss,  a  Nectar-Rain  that  feeds,  and 

mak.es  me  rich. 
I  sit  and  wait  for  him  on  the  red  brown  earth,  all  wet 

and  drowned  below! 
Ah  me!   The  Vision  of  the  Invisible! 
His  Silver  Feet, — my  Life,  my  prop,  my  stay ! ! 

GLORY!   GLORY!   EVERYWHERE! 

MY  steps  are  unsteady  with  joy! 

I  fall,  I  rise,  I  sink  and  soar  in  him. 

The   Rain  of  Nectar  floods  my  heart  and  melts  my 

mind  away  in  holiness  of  God, 
Enraptured  thus  and  with  his  Sight  I  see  all  things  are 

divine  and  fair. 
Glory !   Glory !   Everywhere. 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL       33 

The  Earth,  the  Sky  overhead,  all  things  are  kindled 

with  the  joy  of  his  Light  of  Life, 
This  man  is  God,  he  cometh  everywhere. 
All  worlds  in  him  and  he  in  all,  the  deathless  for  ever! 
Glory !    Glory !    Everywhere. 

His  MIRACLES  ARE  GREAT! 
(From  Asa-Di-Far) 

His  miracles  are  great!    Day  and  night  he  hath  made. 

He  sends  the  Spring  laden  with  flowers;  he  grants 
the  gift  of  youth. 

He  created  the  world,  and  fashioned  with  his  own 
hands  the  Universe! 

Woman  is  beautiful,  and  glorious  is  the  man  to  whom 
she  gives  her  heart  and  soul. 

He  unites  us,  he  separates,  he  makes  us  thirst  and 
hunger,  he  gives  us  wine  and  bread. 

His  Miracle  it  is  by  which  we  live.  Our  mind  and  soul, 
our  heart,  our  self,  the  endless  space,  the  foot- 
falls of  ever  marching  time,  the  mountains,  the 
sea  and  air,  all  these  are  his  miracles. 

He  is  Great ! ! 

In  his  fear  blow  great  winds  and  gentle  airs. 

In  his  fear  flow  the  countless  rivers, 

In  his  fear  move  the  stars,  and  the  Sun  and  Moon, 
whose  march  of  myriad  miles  never  ends!! 

In  his  fear  live  kings,  adepts,  heroes  and  gods;  the  sky 
doth  arch  in  awe,  the  earth  lies  firm,  the  worlds 
are  coming  in  and  going  out  with  his  Breathings. 

He  subsists  Unafraid  above  all  things,  the  One  Formless 
Is!! 


34 


THE  TWILIGHT  OF  THY  GLANCE 


THE  Twilight  of  Thy  Glance  cometh  like  a  shower 
pouring  Beauty,  Youth  and  Flowers  down ! ! 

The  dry  and  mouldered  leaves  on  forest  paths  become 
green  wetted  by  Thy  Glance,  and  crown  the 
trees,  uplifted  by  the  Twilight-Fall. 

The  Twilight  of  Thy  Glance  like  an  influence  steals 
into  my  Soul  and  touches  my  heart  and  strikes 
the  Chords  with  mighty  force,  raising  a  storm 
of  music  and  song,  crying:  "Awake  and  say, 
Hail,  Lord!  Awake  and  say,  Hail,  Holy  One." 

NAM:  THE  NAME  OF  THE  INFINITE 


THE  Name  of  the  Infinite!    The  Sat  Nam,  that  lives 

from  heart  to  heart,  from  lips  to  lips,  the  Fire  of 

Life  that  goes  from  man  to  man!! 
It  was  ere  Time  began,  it  is  and  shall  be. 
The  Spell  of  Love  that  never  dies  and  hides  the  Sat  Nam 

in  the  Son  of  Man,  where  wonder  opes  the  Door 

of  Life  that  no  thinking  can  unbar: 
The  Nam  fresh-dyed  from  red  lips  of  Love  kindles  a 

perpetual  Song  in  me!  And  in  its  glow,  meseems, 

all  things  are  good. 
This  world  is  Heaven,   the  winds   and  waters  speak, 

and  every  blade  of  grass  whispers  its  joy. 
The  trees  with  trembling  leaves  stand  in  prayer! 
The  morning  birds  raise  hymns  of  nascent  mirth!! 
Insects  have  anklets  on  their  little  ankles  and  make  a 

music  as  they  march  and  swell  one  great  Chorus. 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL       35 

All  things  are  made  of  Song. 

The  flocks  of  sheep  with  uplifted  heads,  the  playing 

lambs  with  mouths  full  of  milk  are  gathering 

round  the  shepherd's  voice; 
The  stars  are  burning  bright  in  the  firmament ; 
Blessed  is   the   earthern  lamp   that  lights  my  house! 

its  light  is  the  joy  with  which  I  wait  for  Him 

Whom  I  do  not  know  how  to  name : — 
He  is  my  Sultan  who  rolls  down  a  Sea  of  Life  in  me  and 

asks  not  how  I  spend,  but  fills  it  from  age  to 

age  out  of  His  own  stores,  and  floods  the  Soul 

with  Fragrant  Beauty,  and  hides  Himself  in  the 

limitless  expanse!! 
His   voice  alone  rings  in  my  ears  and    sweet   repose 

shuts  in  my  eyes,  my  lips  vibrate  with  passion 

for  the  Universe!  Hail,  Lord! 

He  is  the  Truth  to  Whom  if  we  be  loyal  in  love  and 

faith,  we  are  safe;  or  else  we  die: 
The  world  where  He  is  not,  is  death  to  us. 
The  man,  woman,  bird  or  beast,  in  whom  if  we  see  Him 

not,  are  mere  deceptions,  pain,  and  death. 
Devoid  of  Him,  all  aims  dissipate,  all  desires  chain  the 

Soul,  and  all  Karma  condemns. 
He  visits  me  in  strange  guises;    strange  are  His  ways; 

one  seldom  can  recognise  Him  as  He  assumes 

different  forms. 
He  comes  in  wars,  in  great  catastrophes;    in  pain,  in 

suffering,   in  hunger;    and  in  the   faithlessness 

of  friends  and  beloved  ones. 
Alike  the  kings,  the  slaves  of  earth  deceive  when  we 

are  out  of  tune  with  Him. 


36       SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

When  I  lean  on  such  frail  weeds  as  these,  or  when  I 
run  after  the  mirage  of  the  world,  breathless 
to  quench  my  thirst,  my  soul  returns  abashed 
to  me,  finding  no  support,  or  no  fountain 
there. 

I  sit  in  deep  sorrow,  deserted  by  all  things,  deceived 
by  the  best  beloved. 

When  suddenly,  Lo,  a  Figure  of  Light  in  Heaven 
saying,  "  Look!  I  am." 

Then  I  know,  HE  is.  Then  I  recognise  my  Man,  my 
Word,  my  Lord  and  Master. 

My  Light  returns  to  me,  casting  out  doubts  and  de- 
lusions, rekindling  in  me  the  fire  of  faith,  giving 
me  again  a  rebirth  in  His  own  Love.  This  is 
Nam:  this  is  the  Holy  One. 

I  forget  Him  in  the  familiar  forms  of  Maya,  and  often 
I  lose  myself  in  illusive  Beauty  that  like  fine 
vapour  rests  on  the  waters  of  Change,  within 
the  rocky  waste  that  allures,  only  to  take  my 
heart,  and  throw  it  upon  the  rocks,  and  break 
it  in  pieces.  But  He  forgets  me  not! 

Fair  God!  Keep  me  with  Thyself!  Let  me  live  in  the 
steady  light  of  Thy  eternal  shape. 

Let  me  kiss  Thy  lotus  Feet,  resting  there  as  the  babe 
rests  on  the  loving,  milk-filled  breasts  of  the 
Mother,  covered  with  her  shawl  secure  from  all 
harm. 

At  Thy  Feet  forever;  let  me  swing  for  ever  in  Thy 
Cradle  of  Light  that  hangs  from  Heaven  with 
strings  of  gold.  At  Thy  bidding  let  thine  Angels 
rock  me  to  and  fro,  and  gently  keep  pulling 
me  up. 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL       37 

Let  them  draw  me  up  like  a  child  fallen  in  a  well,  until 
the  cradle  of  my  love  lie  at  Thy  Feet. 

It  is  this  gentle  drawing  up,  this  lifting  of  me  by  Thy 
Golden  Strings  coming  down  to  save  me,  of  Thy 
own  Will,  that  is  what  I  know  as  my  Life! 

This  communion  with  Thee  is  my  Soul. 

What  then  shall  I  call  Thee?  Thou  art  Law?  Truth? 
Heaven  ?  Love  ?  Nam  ?  and  Man  ?  I  under- 
stand by  Thy  Figure  of  Love  within  me  or  with- 
out, that  Thou  art  with  me,  somewhere,  some- 
how, in  the  horizon  of  my  heart  and  soul! 

Be  with  me,  O  Beloved!  For  Thou  art  never  known 
to  leave  him  whom  once  Thou  callest  Thine  own. 

Thy  Infinite  Love  makes  me  bold;  and  I  err  only  to 
draw  Thy  Great  Compassion  down. 

I  am  known  to  be  as  great  a  sinner  as  Thou  a  Saviour. 
But  with  all  my  sins,  I  still  wait  at  Thy  Door 
where  Mercy  waits  for  me. 

Thy  Touch  alchemical  turns  dross  into  nobler  metals. 

Thy  Glance  uplifts  beings  from  lower  depths  to  heights 
unknown. 

For  Thy  Grace,  O  Lord,  I  wait ! 

Teach  me  Thy  Name,  let  me  breathe  in  Thy  Love  and 
grow  young. 

GURU  NANAK 

THE  Buddha  seated  on  the  white  Lotus  with  his  Nepal 

tresses  knotted  on  his  brow; 
The  Christ  with  his  maiden  braids,  his  God-lit  eyes, 

his  transfigured  face; 
Mohamed  of  the  direct  glance,  with  his  Blazing  Heart 

and  cleaving  sword,  that  flash  and  kindle  the 


38        SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

deserts    with    Heaven's    Glow;     All    Heaven    is 

revealed  in  them,  as  a  whole  nation  is  athrob 

in  a  single  man,  as  a  babe  is  a-stir  in  the  mother's 

soul ; — 
A  Man  of  God  stands  behind  men,  to  guide  and  to 

teach;    at  his  feet  they  pour  out  soul!! 
Each  soul  has  a  divine  Man,  whether  he  will  or  no, 

behind   him,    on   whom    he   trusts    alike    for    a 

glimpse  of  God  and  His  Universe,  and  for  the 

unfoldment  of  his  own  self,  trusting  him  when 

the  soul  is  in  distress. 
Our  thoughts  and  deeds  assume  fantastic  shapes,  and 

our  daily  life  dogs  us  in  man's  image. 
Not  building  ourself  on  the  Man  of  God,  we  build  our 

self  on  sand. 
The  dirt  of  daily  deeds  settles  on  us, — such  is  our  fate. 

Without  the  Man  of  God  in  us,  all  is  vanity; 

good  Karma,  or  bad,  binds  us  alike. 
It  is  true  for  us  forever,  God  Himself  cometh  to  man 

in  the  shape  of  Man  who  spells  Him  for  us :   this 

is  Nam.    The  Man  is  Nam.    He  is  the  Sign  and 

Symbol:    Hail,  Holy  One! 
He  is  the  sign  of  Him,  the  best  of  all  signs. 
He   is   Sat  Nam,  the  Truth  Eternal,   Essence   Infinite 

the  Ever  Living,  who  hath  no  shape,  no  colour, 

whom   no   lines   contain,   whom   no   words   can 

define;    one  Indivisible  Unity. 
He  that  lives,  beyond  Time  and  Space  and  Thought, 

one  like  unto  ourselves,  whom  we  know  as  Man, 
His  presence,  in  lands,  in  waters,  above,  below!!    lo, 

it  is  seen  in  the  form  of  the  Man  of  God;   as  the 

Sun  in  the  shining  lens. 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL       39 

The  world  met  him  in  Krishna,  Buddha;  in  Christ, 
in  Mohamed.  But  I  know  Him  as  my  Lord  and 
Father, — Baba,  Guru  Nanak,  Him  have  I  seen 
not  once,  but  for  ten  generations.  He,  in  a  thous- 
and ways  gave  signs  to  us  of  Nam,  the  Holy  One. 

Taking  the  three  worlds  in  His  lap,  He  hid  himself 
behind  a  man,  in  his  heart,  He  was. 

Guru  Angad  born  of  Nanak's  limbs  was  he. 

I  saw  him,  Guru  Angad,  concealing  the  All-Father  once 
again  in  a  majestic  form  of  man,  the  silver  knot 
of  hair  on  high,  the  white  beard  flowing  down 
like  a  river  of  light,  a  tall,  ancient,  stern  man  of 
love  and  labour,  a  farmer  of  men,  the  owner  of 
Sat  Nam,  Nanak  is  Amar  Das ! 

Guru  Amar  Das  took  on  the  name  and  shape  of  Guru 
Ram  Das,  the  golden  Temple  of  God,  the  Guru 
Ram  Das  a  continuous  hymn  divine,  the  day 
of  the  worlds  of  soul,  the  sweetness  of  all  things. 

Guru  Ram  Das  illuminated  his  son  Arjandev  with 
Himself! 

Guru  Arjan  thrilled  creation  with  the  Father's  Voice. 

Guru  Arjander  produced  out  of  himself  Guru  Har 
Govind,  who  in  turn  bowed  to  Har  Rai  Guru! 

He  saw  Guru  Nanak  again  in  Har  Krishna  Guru,  who 
sighted  again  "  Baba  Bakale  "  1 

Guru  Tegh  Bahadur  rose  and  came  like  a  thousand 
dawns  and  in  his  throat  we  hear  the  song  of  the 
Father,  in  his  form  we  see  the  ancient  Nanak, 
whose  witnesses  are  the  sun  and  moon  and  whom 
the  earth  and  sky  are  still  witnessing. 

1  Baba  Nanak  is  at  Bakala.     So  said  Guru  Har  Krishna  at 
Delhi  while  departing  from  the  body. 


40       SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

The  stars  shiver  in  their  seats  with  joy  as  he  goes 
riding  his  splendid  steed;  his  blue-hued  horse 
stamping  worlds  with  thunder,  and  what  an 
almighty  thrilling  of  creation's  Aura ! 

Guru  Govind  Singh  is  the  name  of  Guru  Nanak  when 
he  rides. 

The  Ancient  Huntsman,  before  whose  arrows  flies  the 
Stag  of  Death,  the  old  Guru  Nanak  armed 
with  shield  and  quiver  full  of  arrows  swung 
around  the  shoulder  and  two  scimitars  hanging 
below. 

He  wears  the  starry-crest  and  carries  a  hawk  on  his 
thumb,  and  flags  of  the  True  Kingship  of  the 
Heaven! 

His  flags  flutter  high  in  Heaven  and  Angels  sing  Hail, 
Lord!! 

The  Wearer  of  the  Blue  Garments!  the  Rider  on  the 
Blue  Horse ! 

The  Commander  of  the  Army  of  his  Saints,  the  Sikhs, 
the  Disciples  made  as  great  by  Him  as  He 
himself,  the  Angels  and  more  than  Angels,  the 
armies  of  the  Heroes  of  the  world  to  defend  the 
purposes  of  God  on  Earth!! 

Behold!  Guru  Nanak  is  seen  in  Guru  Govind  Singh 
as  the  flash  of  sword,  his  Love  takes  the  shape 
of  arrows,  his  Love  is  a  Storm  of  spears. 

Oh!   the  keen,  keen  rays  of  his  glance!     . 

Death  and  bloodshed  save  the  man! 

There  is  paradise  below  the  flying  arrows ! ! 

There  is  Anbad  1  in  the  twanging  of  the  bows ! ! 

There  is  slumber  for  the  saints  on  the  edge  of  swords! 
1  The  hidden  music  of  the  Infinite. 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL       41 

The  Figure  of  Love  lies  arrow-pierced  on  earth,  no 
blood  but  milk  of  love,  the  Amrit?  flows  ferti- 
lising the  world  with  life!! 

The  cold  steel  falls  on  fender  necks  of  His  children; 

But  what  steel  can  touch,  what  fire  can  burn  Nanak  ? 

No  sword  can  cut  the  rays  of  light. 

Death  everywhere,  death  to  the  right,  death  to  the 
left,  but  death  can  touch  not  a  hair  of  him,  nay, 
not  a  hair  of  those  who  are  his  own. 

Guru  Nanak  is  still  with  us,  a  Song,  a  Book;  Guru 
Grantha  is  in  every  Home!! 

And  the  Father  sings  still  so  sweet,  His  voice  still  rings 
in  our  ears,  His  figure  still  flits  before  us  as  a 
man  whose  eyes  meet  ours,  whose  lotus  feet  we 
touch,  who  talks  to  us. 

The  Master  is  still  before  us  in  His  Sikh,  in  His  Saint, 
the  Man  is  still  the  Centre  of  life. 

God  dwells  still  in  the  voice  of  His  Saints;  this  is  the 
"  Changing  Permanence  "  of  things  Eternal. 

The  Saint  reminds  us  of  the  Father's  love,  he  tells  us: 
"  Look,  the  Father-of-All  is  still  standing  behind, 
who  sees  ye,  but  whom  ye  see  not. 

"  Be  full  of  reverence  every  moment  of  your  life." 

"  The  Father  sees,  the  Father  watches  His  crops,  the 
Father  is  all  awake,  Baba  sleeps  not,  Baba 
spreads  over  ye  like  a  tree  whose  canopy  is  the 
broad  blue  sky,  it  is  all  His  shade!!  " 

It  is  not  the  sky  but  the  Father's  Tree  whose  leaves 
and  branches  are  made  of  Angels! 

This  is  Hari  Nam.2 

1  Nectar. 

2  The  Name  of  God,  i.e.,  Absorption  in  the  love  of  God. 


42       SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

"I  still  am  here!    My  children,  awake  and  say  Hail, 

Master!  " 
The  Father  still  comes  to  us  in  the  heart  of  His  Saints 

in  whom  the  Light  of  the  Father  dwells;    He 

and  His  sons  are  one. 
He  sings  to  us  the  chants  of  the  Father. 
He  lulls  us  to  rest  and  sleep. 
He  blesses  us  in  smiting  steel,  in  the  rain  of  arrows 

rain  His  blessings  down. 

He  bathes  us  in  blood,  He  laves  us  with  fire. 
Die  glad  saying  Hail,  Lord !   This  world  is  not  all  here, 

this  is  not  the  end,  nor  beginning  here,  worlds 

on  worlds   beyond,   the  Regions  yet  unknown, 

they  shall  open  up  after  this  death. 
Beware!    let  not  the  Guru-given  fire  within  die  out! 

keep  up  the  flame  of  Nam,  let  not  the  flame  die 

out!! 
This    lamp    of    Nam    shall    light    thy    path    beyond 

death;    in    scorching   heat,    it    will   spread    on 

thy  head   a   cool   and    dense  deep  shade,  this, 

like  a  Talisman,  will  yield  to  thee  all  that  thou 

desirest. 
Hart  Nam  will  quench  thy  thirst  in  regions  beyond, 

it  will  yield  thee  a  pair  of  wings  on  which  ye 

would  fly  up  to  the  Guru  singing  Hail,  Lord!  to 

the  throne  of  God. 
Of  what  avail  is  it  if  ye  gain  the  whole  world  and  lose 

your  soul,  let  not  the  Glow  of  Nam  fade!! 

These  are  the  distant  shores  where  He  sends  thee  to 
win  through  life  or  death,  through  pain  or 
pleasure,  the  Treasure  of  Nam  for  thyself. 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL       43 

Spend  not.  Accumulate  the  Divine  Wealth,  the  Sub- 
stance-Love of  which  thy  Soul  is  made. 

Naught  else  availeth. 

At  Death's  Door  shall  lie  what  you,  deluded,  have 
called  your  own,  all  goodness  and  all  virtues  too. 

The  world  received  you  as  a  living  babe,  a  flower  divine"' 
with  moving  ruby  lips;   your  soul  came  smiling, 
any  pair  of  arms  could  lift  you  up  and  make 
you  their  own  and  love ! ! 

But  see  now,  how  they  shall  send  you  forth,  a  wrinkled 
miserable  old  man  despised  by  all,  they  shall 
send  you  out  of  this  world  and  burn  the  body 
which  they  embraced  with  so  much  love!! 

The  grains  of  Love,  the  moments  spent  in  Simran,  in 

Nam,  hoarded  ant-like  one  by  one,  shall  survive 

and  be  thy  own  helpers,  thy  guides  and  friends. 
Thou  art  the  architect  of  thy  own  Home  beyond  the 

realms  of  this  life  and  death. 
Make  it  then  as  thou  willst,  make  it  of  anguish  or  pain, 

of  longing  for  wealth  or  fame  or  objects  of  sense; 

thy  longing  will  be  there,  naught  else; 
Or  make  it  a  Temple  where  God  may  dwell  with  thee, 

filling  thy  eternity  with  bliss. 
Say  Hail,  Lord!   This  Word  the  angels  guard. 
This  Word  lives  in  the  Saints,  and  they  all  would  help. 
This  Word  doth  bridge  the  gulf  between  this  Near  and 

Far,  and  joins  this  Life  with  That  beyond  what 

they  call  Death. 
No  Death  for  him  who  breathes  each  breath  in  Wah- 

Guru,   who   takes    each   step   of  life   in   Divine 

Communion ! 


44       SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

Eternity  lives  in  one  breath!! 

One  little  breath  doth  make  Eternity ! ! 

The  Holy  One,  Lord  of  All,  is  in  the  Saint  as  fragrance 
is  in  the  rose-leaves. 

The  combined  charm  of  the  beauty  of  the  rose  and  her 
fragrance  is  one ! ! 

They  are  thine  and  thou  art  theirs  who  have  given 
themselves  to  God  and  live  their  lives  on  Earth 
as  Trusts  of  God  and  spend  them  as  He  wills 
in  unquestioning  love  and  faith,  in  continuous 
life  unbroken  by  a  breath. 

Love  for  the  Man  of  God  is  very  love  of  God. 

This  faith  is  Nanak's  love  for  man. 

This  common  thing  is  precious  beyond  value, 

This  is  what  Jewellers  know. 

This  ruby  of  Nam  they  alone  can  prize. 

This  Enchanted  Stone  contains  all-God. 

This  is  all-Sustainer,  All-Encompasser  Nam. 

This  is  that  which  holds  the  worlds  all  together, 

This  is  the  Charmed  Word,  this  is  Nanak: 

This  is  Love,  call  what  thou  canst  call,  this  is  the  Name- 
less, Formless,  Casteless,  Tasteless  God. 

My  soul!    Rise  and  say,  Blessed  be  Guru  Nanak! 

I  AM  THE  CHILD  LOST  IN  THE  WORLD-FAIR! 

I  AM  the  child  lost  in  the  world-fair! 

I  know  no  language,  I  can  only  say :  "  Pray,  take  me  to 

my  Father."  I  can  give  no  more,  nor  my  country 

nor  town,  nor  street. 

I  am  afraid  of  men,  I  long  for  my  own  Mother! 
Her  arms  alone  I  know,  her  caresses  alone  can  soothe 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL       45 

me  into  that  dewy  sweet  slumber,  her  touch  I 

know,  her  voice  I  recognise. 
This  is  my  knowledge — as  much  as  a  calf  has — or  as 

much  as  the  little  ones  of  the  sparrow  have. 
I  know  this  is  my  mother  at  sight  of  her,  my  limbs 

would  speak  out  what  no  language  can. 
My  whole  body  is  a  tongue  that  calls  outj 
"  My  Father!  "   "  My  Mother!  " 
Nothing  answers.      Stars  sweep  on,   and  answer  not, 

though  I  looked  at  them  for  hundreds  of  nights; 

the   streams   run  on,  the  hills  stand  calm,  the 

trees  grow  and  winds  blow  heeding  me  not. 
The  sky  replies  not,  nor  doth  the  moon  talk  to  me, 

no  one  tells  me  where  is  my  Father. 
My  cries  are  lost  in  the  wilderness,  no  one  has  a  heart 

that  cries. 

The  birds  alone,  my  dumb  companions  crowd  around 
me  and  perch  on  my  head  and  shoulders,  they 
sing  to  beguile  me  but  I  cry  again!! 

No  songs  can  heal  my  pain,  no  shows  amuse. 

How  should  a  little  living  baby,  made  of  flesh  and  bone, 
cry  not  ? 

And  who  could  beguile  him  but  his  own  mother  whom 
his  cries  are  calling  out  of  time  and  space? 

Until  the  child  is  laid  with  his  little  bosom  on  the 
bosom  that  gave  it  birth  and  Mother's  lips  kiss 
his  cheeks  and  his  infant  hands  entwine  her 
neck,  and  mother's  half-closed  eyes  look  into 
the  joy-lit  baby  eyes,  how  could  a  living  babe 
be  soothed  to  rest  ? 

To  the  little  one,  mother  is  almighty. 


46       SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

To  it  her  presence  is  all. 

The  baby's  Mother  is  his  God-given  God:  Mother  is  all. 

My  cries  would  stop,  my  pain  would  cease,  my  face 
would  beam,  my  soul  would  glow  like  a  flower, 
when  in  her  arms.  My  flesh  knows  her. 

I  am  the  child  lost  in  the  world-fair ! 

The  wise  men  came,  they  took  me  in  their  lap,  they 
roamed  with  me  from  tent  to  tent  and  asked 
me,  is  this  your  Father? 

In  endless  roamings,  I  was  taken  to  kings,  heroes  and 
saints,  to  prophets,  poets,  thinkers,  young  and 
old;  I  was  taken  to  queens,  mothers  of  god-like 
men,  angelic  women  famed  for  all  tenderness  of 
heart  and  goodness  of  soul  that  makes  a  woman 
so  fair  and  noble; 

The  brighter  the  tents,  the  gayer  the  guests,  the  more 
godly  the  dwellers,  the  fairer  the  womankind 
and  the  brighter  the  jewels  they  wore, — the 
more  painful  grew  my  pain  and  my  very  soul 
cried:  "My  Father"!  "My  Mother"! 

I  have  grown  up  now,  but  not  yet  have  I  seen  my 
Father;  good  people  have  toiled  but  not  yet  has 
my  Mother  come! 

Birds  have  flown  everywhere  seeking  her  for  me  but  no 
news  yet,  nothing  avails. 

Save  me !   I  am  growing  mad. 

My  fears  make  me  to  stumble  at  every  step. 

I  saw  a  young-old  man,  he  had  a  white  beard,  a  snow- 
white  turban,  I  flew  into  his  arms  and  cried 
"Father"! 

My  soul  returned  to  me,  still  not  finding  for  itself  what 
no  one  else  could  find  for  it!! 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL       47 

I  saw  a  rider,  a  splendid  rider  on  a  splendid  steed;  I 
ran  after  the  horse;  the  rider  turned  not,  the 
horse  galloped  away. 

I  knew  not  my  madness  grew  and  I  flew  into  the  arms 
of  any  man  and  woman,  crying  "  My  Father," 
"My  Mother!" 

I  was  mad,  I  saw  my  Father  in  clouds,  in  air,  I  saw  him 
under  the  shades  of  the  stars,  I  was  restless. 

A  boy  lost  from  infancy  and  brought  up  on  the  knees 
of  rocks  and  fed  by  birds  of  passage,  whose  home 
has  been  the  market  place,  who  never  met  a 
glance  from  among  the  thousand  pairs  of  eyes 
glancing  into  each  other,  who  never  had  a  mouth- 
ful of  milk  where  a  thousand  breasts  feed  a 
thousand  lips,  who  never  had  the  sensation  of 
an  embrace  where  thousands  of  mothers  embrace 
their  little  ones. 

The  calf  still  lowqd  for  the  Mother-cow,  the  cow  was 
looking  for  her  calf,  the  love-lowings  disturbed 
God's  Creation:  but  such  was  fate,  they  could 
not  reach  each  other. 

One  noon,  on  burning  sands,  the  world-scorched  mad 
man  saw  in  dream-light  a  Figure  of  Heaven: — 

All-attracting,  all-piercing  Beauty  that  buys  the  soul 
of  man  as  a  slave  of  God  by  a  glance,  in  whose 
all-containing  sight  the  man  forgets  all  else, 
in  whose  Almighty  Glance  the  soul  soars,  tran- 
scending time  and  space,  whose  lifting  eyelids 
signal  a  rain  of  stars. 

Ah!  a  thousand  new  births  and  a  thousand  deaths  in 
the  space  of  a  Glance! 


48       SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

One  Glance  of  the  all-creating  Beauty ! ! 

The  dumb  limbs  of  the  universe  with  one  pure  vibration 
speak  of  this  Beauty. 

The  Heavens  came  down  to  me  as  a  tall,  majestic  figure 
of  holy  youth,  joyous,  tender  and  soft,  meek 
and  mild,  and  sweet  like  a  rose,  and  common 
like  a  child  of  man,  radiant,  made  of  flesh, 
fragrant,  a  wonderful  Being  in  whom  I  saw  my 
all,  my  Father,  Mother,  Friend  and  Master. 

This  Figure  is  the  Mother.   My  Mother  comes. 

She  took  me  in  her  lap,  me  a  man  with  long  long  hair 
and  a  flowing  beard  that  had  some  silver  from 
the  dawn  that  breaks  beyond  this  death,  a 
beard  streaked  with  a  few  reminder-rays  of  the 
yonder  life,  me  a  trembling  old  man,  ill-dressed 
in  tattered  rags,  bare-headed,  bare-footed,  a 
pilgrim  lost  in  the  sands. 

The  son  of  man  thus  lay  asleep  unconscious. 

When  the  pilgrim  woke,  he  was  a  holy  man. 

All  limbs  of  clay  were  transmuted  into  those  of  gold, 
recast,  remade  in  life  of  soul. 

The  long  journey  through  life  on  life  is  over;  the  sun 
did  roll  for  this,  for  this  the  lamps  of  stars! 

Long  tresses  knotted  above  by  her  fair  hands,  which 
a  snow-white  turban  covers,  an  iron  ring  on  the 
wrist,  two  scimitars  concealed  at  the  side,  a 
flowing  beard — a  man  well-dressed  like  a  soldier, 
the  pilgrim  rose  from  his  sleep. 

A  little  hut  in  the  desert  he  makes,  his  own  handicraft, 
his  art,  thraugh  whose  roof  made  of  dry  grass- 
blades  peep  the  sun  and  moon; 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL       49 

A  pitcher  of  red  clay,  a  shallow  cup  for  its  lid  and  a 
bed  made  of  golden  straws,  neat  like  the  inside 
of  a  bird's  nest  where  come  fair-plumed  birds 
to  drink  with  man  a  beakful  of  water  and  pick 
a  few  small  grains  of  wheat  and  maize. 

The  Man  of  the  hut,  like  a  bird  in  its  nest,  now  swings 
free  in  nature's  infinite  sun  and  air  and  cloud 
and  rain  and  storm ! ! 

Once  more  the  son  of  Man  is  alive  with  God's  life, 
devoid  of  the  lower  self,  one  with  God,  yet  still 
with  an  innocent  self  as  much  as  that  of  a  bird 
that  loves  the  dawn,  with  self  just  enough  to  be 
a  man  to  vibrate  with  wonder  and  love  and  awe, 
feeling  as  much  as  one  can  feel  on  earth  for 
others  who  are  lost,  meddling  with  no  one's 
affairs,  yet  watching  the  time  when  best  one 
could  help  without  giving  unrest  and  pain!! 

He  is  the  child-man  who  speaks  the  language  newly 
learnt:  "Hail,  Master!"  "Hail,  Holy  One!" 

His  lips  move  with  this  Word,  the  Word  runs  in  his 
very  blood. 

He  cannot  live  without  this  Word. 

It  is  his  air,  his  sky  and  land. 

As  fish  in  water,  this  "Hail,  Master!  "  is  his  sea,  out 
of  this  sea  he  dies. 

Others  have  much  to  live  by,  but  he  has  none,  nothing 
more. 

All  is  this.  It  is  his  life  and  the  fountain  of  life  from 
whence  the  life  flows  into  him. 

It  is  his  kith  and  kin,  his  name  and  fame,  his  treasure 
great. 

His  Heaven  is  Nam,  he  cannot  live  outside  his  hut. 


50       SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

In    this  Word  is    the  life   of    his  Saviour,   this  is  his 

Saviour. 

He  suffocates  in  air  devoid  of  Nam. 
The  angel  of  his  noon-dreams  lives  with  him. 
The  Mother  conies   to  him  in  dreams   and   tells  him 

secrets  of  life. 
He  knows  all,  knowing  most  when  knowing  least,  in 

sleep,  all  made  of  dreams ! 
He  breathes  freely,  he  depends  on  nothing. 
No  desires  disturb  his  unrippling  mind  swimming  like 

a  lotus  in  a  sea  of  perfect  self-contained  peace. 
Borne  on  the  wings  of  the  heavenly  zephyrs  of  the 

Guru-given  Nam,  the  little  boat  of  his  human 

frame  sails  to  the  Infinite. 
The  man  by  the  Master's  light  is  transformed! 

I  am  with  my  Father. 

I  sleep  and  wake  in  Him. 

He  encompasseth  me;  when  I  stumble,  wonder  of 
wonders!  I  fall  in  His  lap! 

I  love  the  moon  as  it  ascends  now  from  behind  the 
straw-thatchings  of  my  hut,  I  love  to  see  the 
break  of  dawn  from  my  bed  of  straw,  I  love  to 
look  at  the  stars,  and  the  high  and  still  higher 
sky  whose  vastness  is  my  joy. 

In  the  lap  of  my  Father  with  my  bowl  filled  with  milk, 
I  am  what  no  kings  can  be. 

My  life  is  now  a  farewell  to  this  world-fair! 

It  is  my  Father's  call  and  I  go. 

Seated  on  the  summits  high  of  love,  I  say:  "  0  Earth! 
O  Sky!  O  rolling  winds  and  waters!  O  day! 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL       51 

O  night!    I  ccnd  from  here  to  you,  my  farewell 

greetings ! 
Revolving  seasons !   Man,  woman,  O  child !   with  folded 

hands,  let  me  greet  ye  with  my  Master's  salute: 

Sat  Sri  Akdl !  l 
Let  me,  at  parting  of  the  ways,  repeat  to  you  what  my 

Master  said  to  me:   know  this  as  truth, 
One  Nam  alone  is  our  saviour! 
Nam  alone  is  Love,  Nam  is  truth  and  light, 
Nam  is  the  beginning,  Nam  the  end,  Nam  is  the  way 

and  lamp,  Nam  is  the  end-all  and  be-all,  no  one 

phase  of  life  can  define  Nam,  all  life  is  in  it 

contained,  this  is  all. 
Call  it  as  you  will,  this  is  Guru  Nanak's  life  of  love!  " 

1  The  well-known  Sikh  cry,  that  addresses  God  as  the  universal 
Father. 


POEMS  ON  S1MRAN 


POEMS  ON   SIMRAN 

THE   WHOLE  HORIZON  OF  Mr  MIND 

THE  whole  horizon  of  my  mind  is  lit  with  the  joy  of 

the  sight  of  the  Stream  of  Heaven,  as  it  comes 

flying  down  the  steeps  to  me, 
A  stream  of  soft  mists  ethereal  that  from  far  far  off 

flows  into  me ;  it  is  a  volatile  sense  of  joy  that 

fills  me. 
It  is  the  joy  that  the  lotus  has  when  it  is  kissed  by  the 

rising  sun,  ah!    the  morning  joy  of  birds!! 
The  mat  on  which  my  soul  kneels  down  to  pray  is  this 

Joy-mist  that  fills  me  with  the  sense  of   Thy 

Omnipresence. 
The  exquisite  fragrance  of  knowledge  that  Thou  art 

somewhere  intoxicates  me. 
My  head  reels  with  joy,  my  flesh  grown  translucent 

cries  out  for  Thee! 

As  A  WOMAN  LOVES  MAN 

As  a  woman  loves  man,  I  love  Hari  Nam,1 

Without  His  Divine  Presence  encompassing  me  in  my 

daily  life,  without  the  sight  of  the  light  of  His 

Silver   Feet,   without   the   mists   of  joy  of   the 

touch  of  holiness,  at  all  times  of  the  day  and 

1  The  name  of  God. 
55 


56       SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

night,  heartfelt  and  unforgot,  without  that  sweet 
madness  for  His  Name  that  holds  me  fast  within 
the  air  of  the  Presence  of  God,  I  am  more  miser- 
able than  those  who  stand  in  need  of  bread  or 
clothes  or  house  or  bed. 

I  need  but  love  of  God-like  man  to  raise  me  from  the 
slough  of  a  wavering  faith, 

When  out  of  the  sphere  of  this  Divine  Attraction  my 
mind  is  half  insane,  my  frame  is  in  pain  as  if 
a  million  thorns  have  pricked  me  through. 

All  disease  is  forgetfulness  of  my  Lord  of  Love,  all 
distress  is  in  the  outer  air. 


THE  MAN  OF  GOD 

THE  man  of  God  doth  live  in  his  own  paradise  made  of 

dreams, 
And  he  watches  calm  changes  of  the  colours  of  his  sky 

and  how  with  those  changes  change  his  joy  and 

pride  and  aroma  of  faith!! 
His  life  is  a  continuous  inspiration, 
At  times  the  stream  grows  thin  like  an  unspun  thread 

of  cotton,  when  spider-like  he  rolls  it  in  himself 

and  flies  from  all  society, 
At  others,  the  stream  surges  in  all  the  four  directions 

like  a  shoreless  roaring  sea, 
And  the  man  of  God  comes  out  to  oppose  the  whole 

world  of  unfaith  and  lower-self. 
His    God-inspired    almighty    sword    doth    cleave    the 

Dark  and  save  the  saints  and  destroy  all  that 

is  false. 
And  yet  he  is  the  Child  of  Man  whose  own  sustenance 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL       57 

is  but  a  cup  of  milk  drawn  afresh  from  the 
Golden  Stream  of  Love  that  flows  toward  him 
from  the  Lotus  Feet  of  God. 

The  man  of  God  feels  suffocated  if  drawn  away  from 
this  Holy  Presence. 

The  vision  of  His  Glory  redeems  his  mind  from  all 
wandering  aims  and  concentrates  it  in  a  little 
luminous  point  of  His  Nam,  builds  the  faith  that 
God  is,  and  grows  the  man  beneath  the  shades 
of  mists,  the  primeval  dreams  of  which  man  is 
,  made. 

His  life  is  Love  of  God,  his  life  is  Nanak-Simran; 
his  is  the  science  of  growing  love  and  faith  in 
the  life  of  man,  his  is  the  art  of  the  gardener  that 
plants  the  Man  of  God  in  man; 

He  sows  a  poet,  a  seer,  a  lover  of  God,  a  hero  in  a 
common  Child  of  Man. 

He  exalts  the  common  life  of  man  to  the  dignity  equal 
to  or  more  than  that  of  gods. 

For  the  joy  of  this  life  all  creation  pines  and  the  gods 
of  Heaven  do  pine. 

OF   WHAT   USE   TO   TURN    THE    BEADS  ? 

OF  what  use  to  turn  the  beads  in  my  hands,  if  my 
heart,  like  the  earth,  turns  not  around  its  Sun, 
in  its  eternal  journey  unbroken  by  a  step  ? 

Simran  is  the  planetary  march  of  our  life  round  a  higher 
life  of  Heaven. 

The  heart-beats,  the  breath,  the  tongue,  the  pores  of 
skin,  the  mind,  the  footfalls,  all  must  repeat 


58       SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

Hail,  Master!  with  a  rosary  made  of  the  beads 
of  love,  of  tear-drops  for  all. 

Not  to  be  a  priest  with  beads  but  to  be  a  rosary  our- 
selves made  of  heart-beats,  moving  as  He  may 
move,  obedient  to  His  Will;  we  live  as  the 
Children  of  Song! 

If  He  give  us  a  number  of  playmates,  we  play  together; 
if  He  take  them  away,  we  still  look  up  to  Him 
and  pray  and  sing; 

If  He  put  us  with  Himself  in  warm  beds  in  cold  dark 
winter  nights,  we  sleep;  if  He  throw  us  in  a 
flood  we  swim,  knowing  the  Great  Swimmer  is 
still  with  us,  no  waters  can  dare  drown ! 

If  He  throw  us  in  fire,  Welcome!  He  tests  not  us  but 
His  own  gold. 

Be  it  death  or  worse, 

We  are  safe  in  His  Arms  with  Hail,  Master! 

In  all  tempests  with  our  tiny  arms  entwined  round 
His  Mother-Neck,  our  tresses  flung  free  in 
breezes  of  time,  we  sleep  like  babes  in  His  Firm 
Embrace. 

No  fires  can  burn,  no  waters  drown,  no  swords  can  cut, 
no  kings  destroy  the  children  of  the  Master. 

We  are  the  sons  of  Guru  Nanak,  Guru  Govind  Singh. 

True!  To  turn  our  beads  may  be  nothing,  but  to  turn 
our  beads  may  be  all. 

EACH  SAINT  is  A  GREAT  STAR  OF  SIMRAN  LIFE 

EACH  Saint  is  a  great  star  of  Simran  life,  in  whom  the 
Master  has  planted  the  seed  of  the  Song  Divine 
of  the  Nam,  Hail,  Master! 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL       59 

The  Saint,  the  liberated  soul  set  in  the  Guru  is  the 
centre  fixed  round  which  the  lesser  planets  re- 
volve singing  Hail!  Hail,  Lord  and  Master! 

The  central  sun  in  turn  is  a  spark  of  Heaven  that  shines 
with  the  light  of  Nam\ 

Infinite  is  the  Master's  Being  in  whom  all  glowing 
stars  of  Divine  life  in  their  own  seats  burn  as 
flames  of  eternal  love. 

It  is  as  he  ordains. 

There  is  a  sky  on  sky,  a  heaven  on  heaven  still  high 
and  higher,  which  the  Master  combines  in  the 
soul  of  man. 

All  past  is  not  past,  all  future  is  not  to  come,  it  is  there 
as  one  Great  Now  of  the  seeing  Soul,  the  Reason 
Pure  that  thinks  not,  but  sees  clear:  God  is. 

This  Seeing  is  Simranl 

It  is  the  restoration  of  man  to  his  natural  heavenly 
life  of  innocence  and  its  joys  and  its  glory. 

ON  THE  WHEEL  OF  SIMRAN 

ON  the  wheel  of  Simran,  this  life  or  death  is  one 
unbroken  joy,  it  is  a  bliss  that  gods  share 
with  man. 

It  is  not  near  nor  far;  one  grain,  one  mustard  seed 
contains  the  sun. 

Wonder  of  wonders!   only  believe  the  finite  is  Infinite!! 

The  Man  is  God. 

Simran  is  the  secret  A^m-stream  of  life  that  flows  from 
the  Master  to  the  disciple,  and  it  is  life  that 
begets  life ;  no  thoughts,  no  ways  of  meditation, 
nor  Yoga  could  bid  it  in  us  to  flow,  no  penance 


60       SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

nor  renunciation  nor  ways  of  giving  alms  could 
command  it,  nor  lip-worship  nor  rites  of  thousand 
kinds,  nor  prayers  that  arise  not  from  life  and 
heart  combined,  nor  gods  of  our  own  making, 
nor  musings  of  myriad  minds  could  make  of  us 
a  star  of  the  Simran  sky! 

It  is  the  Master  who  visits  us,  as  He  wills,  and  lifts  us 
up  into  the  planetary  society  of  saints  and  slowly 
makes  of  us  a  Sikh; 

He  hangs  us  in  the  Heaven  of  His  Own  Self,  making 
us  swing  with  a  galaxy  of  liberated  souls  revolving 
round,  a  sun  whom  He  bids  to  attract  a  chosen 
few! 

The  sun  is  thus  appointed  to  shine,  and  watch  and  lift 
on  his  shoulders  the  sons  of  God! 

This  is  Guru  Nanak's  scheme  of  making  this  world  of 
man  and  soul  a  shining  heaven  from  heart  to 
heart,  soul  to  soul,  from  home  to  home,  the 
kingdom  of  God  self-contained,  independent  in 
one's  own  self  and  yet  a  whole,  one  home,  one 
temple  sublime  of  common  worship  of  man  and 
bird  and  beast. 

Here  dumb  grazing  animals  and  birds  perched  on  green 
trees,  swinging  from  bough  to  bough  in  divine 
ecstasy,  and  leaves  of  the  forest  and  blades  of 
grass  raise  a  thousand-tuned  chorus  of  the  song 
of  the  lover  of  God: — Hail,  Master! 


THE  Guru  gathers  the  man  grain  by  grain,  the  man 
who    is   scattered    in    the   sands   of   desires*  of 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL       61 

purposes  other  than  God's,  forgetful  of  his  Maker 
till  he  makes  him  whole. 

The  Guru-made  man  discovers  naught  is  his,  all  things 
belong  to  the  Master,  his  heart  and  head  and 
limbs  are  not  his,  nothing  is  his  that  he  called  so 
long  his  own,  not  a  hair,  not  a  blade  of  grass. 

The  vast  world  when  thus  he  doth  see  in  Wah-Guru, 
when  to  him  Wah-Guru  is  all,  then  is  the  man 
made  alive  in  himself; 

The  common  man  is  God  who  shares  the  common  lot 
with  man,  labours  and  sweats  for  his  bread,  he 
shears  the  soil  with  his  plough,  and  sows  and 
grows  his  crops  that  wave  in  the  golden  sun; 
he  reaps  and  gathers  grain  by  grain,  does  all, 
but  not  for  himself. 

He  does  all  for  Him;  no  Karma  binds  the  man  of 
Simran,  for  he  is  inebriated  with  joy  of  Nam, 
and  is  but  half  conscious  of  his  life  on  earth. 

ALL  THE  MARCH  OF  THINGS  is  DIVINE 

ALL  the  march  of  things  is  divine,  be  it  of  star  or  wind 

or  water,  or  of  the  tree. 

Miraculous  is  the  movement  of  bird  or  beast. 
A  moving  animal  is  God's  Sign. 
How  do  the  moving  winds  give  themselves  trees  whose 

leaves  and  boughs  vibrate  with  passion ! 
All    rocks    split    asunder  to   let   the   marching  waters 

pass. 
The  bird  in  flight  has  a  sovereign  right  over  hill  and 

dale,  it  is  supreme. 
Reverence  is  due  to  a  moving  thing. 


62       SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

Simran  is  the  soul  of  love  in  earnest  march  to  Heaven; 

long  is  his  journey  and  far,  far  off  is  his  home. 

But  the  Unseen  pulls  at  his  heart,  the  ends  of 

the  strings  that  pull  are  in  the  hands  of  the 

Guru,  He  propels  all  motion. 

The  traveller  walks  as  He  bids  his  steps  to  move. 
Great  is  Guru  Nanak's  path  that  runs  through  action 

and  strife,  a  slender  thread  of  love  that  entwines 

round  the  traveller's  heart  on  a  march  in  the 

Infinite. 
Simran  is  eternal  stir  in  the  soul  of  things ! 

I  DO  NOT  KNOW  WHY 

I  DO  not  know  why,  but  when  I  say  Hail,  Master!  the 
sun  and  stars  seem  to  run  in  my  breath,  my 
muscles  are  as  if  fibres  of  light,  my  being  wings 
that  mingle  with  lands  and  waters,  my  lips 
touch  gardens  of  flowers,  my  hands  I  exchange 
with  some  other  hands,  a  stranger  moves  my 
tongue.  The  universe  runs  into  me  and  I  into 
the  universe. 

I  seem  a  strange  misty  Form.  Like  vapour,  I  pass  into 
the  being  of  others,  and  they  passing  within  me 
become  my  guests. 

It  seems  fair  forms  of  beauty  roll  as  waves  on  the  sea — 
Hail,  Lord!  all  are  each  other's!! 

Our  shape  and  limbs  run  into  each  other. 

I  find  my  bones  at  times  strike  within  me  against  the 
bones  of  some  one  else. 

Our  deeds  and  thoughts  jostle  and  run  into  each  other. 

I  see  a  hundred  souls  blend  in  me  and  I  interchange 


63 

my  blood  and  brain  thus  with  a  hundred  more 
in  a  single  breath,  and  calm  in  solitude,  I  find 
a  society. 

I  MET  A  WOMAN  ONCE 

I  MET  a  woman  once  who  was  as  fresh  as  a  bush  of 
roses  full  blown,  her  eyes  like  lotus  were  swim- 
ming in  the  azure  of  the  world-water. 

Her  step  was  light,  like  the  morning  zephyr,  and  she 
was  beautiful!  god-like  was  her  form. 

I  looked  at  her  with  tender  eyes  when  I  was  melting 
in  love  of  Him  who  made  her  so  fair!! 

I  almost  lost  the  maker  in  the  make. 

Her  eyes  ran  into  mine,  her  lips  I  felt  vibrating  on  my 
lips  in  one  music  of  Nam. 

I  vaguely"  saw  her  soul  in  me,  and  mine  in  her,  for  I  had 
changed  my  sex. 

It  took  me  hours  to  forget  her;  I  am  not  given  to  look 
at  things  so  tenderly. 

THE  PERSONS  OF  MEN 

THE  persons  of  men  evoke  worship  in  me  so  strong  that 
I  am  flooded  with  love  of  gifts  and  things,  for- 
getful of  the  Giver,  of  Him  who  made  me  fit  to 
worship  men  and  things,  of  Him  who  taught  me, 
Love  is  God's  gift  and  great ! 

How  strange !  in  men  and  things  I  forget  Him  who  told 
me: 

"  Worship  Love  wherever  it  may  be,  in  mother's  heart 
or  in  the  babe,  in  the  heart  of  a  young  man  or 
of  a  maid,  let  thy  sense  supreme  tell  where  Love 


64       SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

may  be,  love  it,  be  glad  and  sing  in  thyself, — 

'  Love  is  great! ' 
It  is  life  and  more;    it  is  the  image  of  God,  it  is  the 

bread  of  souls,  it  is  the  raiment  of  man. 
He  is  naked;   without  Love,  full  of  shame  and  pain." 
Ah!    If  men  and  things  were  never  too  much  with  me! 
Ah!    If  I  could  but  draw  the  line  round  myself  and 

live  in  its  charmed  circle,  in  eternal  communion 

with  my  Beloved,  only  look  at  men  and  things 

from  this  charmed  centre ! 
Ah!   only  look  at  men  and  things! 


IN  a  thousand  sacred  rivers  I  have  plunged  for  a  bath 

that  washes  off,  they  say,  the  sins  of  men ; 
But  the  fever  of  desire  consumes  me  still,  my  pilgrimage 

availeth  not. 
When  the  Shower  of  Thy  Glance  falls  on  me,  even  to 

myself  I  am  a  sacred  man.     I  feel  laved.     My 

heart  is  cleaned,  my  mind  is  cleared  of  thoughts ; 
And  my  soul  mounts  high  in  regions  of  sinlessness,  and 

cool  streams  flow  through  every  channel  of  my 

thought-scorched  frame. 
A  Spray  of  the  Light  of  Thy  Glance  extinguishes  the 

fiery  volcanoes  of   the  fevers  of   illusion,  their 

mouths   are   filled   with   snow,    their   very   soul 

freezes  in  cold  ecstasy. 
The  fish  is  free  in  the  river,  the  river  in  the  sea,  the  sea 

is  free  in  its  expanse, 
The  Yogi  feels  freedom  in  Nirvana, 
My  bondage  breaks  when  I  bathe  in  Thy  Glance, 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL       65 

Enrobed  in  holy  sunshine  of  Thy  Amrit,  and  adorned 
with  the  light  of  sinlessness  of  Thy  Blessed  Love, 
new  born  from  Heaven's  bath,  my  bondage 
breaks  when  I  catch  a  glimpse  of  Thy  Lotus  Feet. 

How  Thy  Grace  filleth  me ! ! 


TOUCH  MY  HEART! 

TOUCH  me!  Touch  my  heart  with  Thy  Lotus  Feet! 
that  I  may  dream,  in  world-distress  and  dust, 
Thou  art  by  me!! 

Throw  me  not  on  myself ! ! 

I  forget  Thy  sky  is  above  me;  I  forget  it  is  Thy  air  I 
breathe,  Thy  waters  I  drink,  Thy  stars  I  see, 
Thy  gardens  I  walk,  Thy  fruits  I  eat,  Thy 
singing  rivers  I  hear  as  they  roll,  Thy  men  I 
love !  I  forget  that  Thou  art ! 

Lord!  Throw  me  not  on  myself;  at  every  step  I  forget 
Thee. 

Too  much  for  me  is  this  world-madness! 

Keep  swooping  down  on  my  heart  from  Thy  Heaven- 
flights  ! 

Ah!  I  may  know  from  moment  to  moment  Thou  art 
everywhere  and  Thou  art  my  Life  and  Joy  and 
Pride  and  Strength,  and  motion  of  all  moving 
things. 

Pray,  give  me  signs  from  Heaven  that  I  may  look  and 
wonder  and  say  Hail,  my  Lord! 

Let  down  the  Love-strings  that  they  may  pull  me  up 
with  Thy  Wheel  of  Change. 

Lift  me  slowly,  lift  me  up !  Let  me  melt  in  Thy  Glory 
that  makes  Earth  and  Heaven  but  one. 


66       SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

Touch  me!    Touch  my  eyes  with  Thy  Lotus  Feet  and 

cool   my   heart,    my    burning   eyes   and   frame; 

and  let  me  rest  at  peace  in  Thy  Tree-shadows. 
I  need  deep  sleep  to  give  me  peace  from  the  scorching 

sun  of  the  world. 
Ah!  Let  me  dream,  and  see  naught  but  Thee  in  all  and 

everything. 

THE  NEST  IN  THE  GRASS-BLADES 

DARK  is  the  sky  with  all  its  stars  and  dark  are  both 

the  Day  and  Night. 
Dark  is  my  heart ! 
The  rise  of  a  hundred  Moons  would  not  light  my  path, 

the  glow  of  a  thousand  Suns  would  not  send  a 

single  ray  within  my  heart. 
I  wait  for  but  one  ray  which  He  might  bid  to  strike 

the  windows  of  my  closed  soul! 
He  looks  at  me  and  my  heart  is  enlightened; 
The  thin  covering  of  the  grass-blades  is  enough  for  the 

Nest  of  my  Heart,  I  gather  within  it  His  Light 

and,  all-content,  I  glow  within,  as  the  tempest 

of  winds  swings  my  nest  in  Endless  Night  and 

the  Black  outside! 

WHEN  ALL  THE  DOORS  ARE  CLOSED 

WHEN  all  the  doors  are  closed  against  me, 
When  my  own  eyes  and  ears  are  closed; — no  joy  on 
earth,  no  light  in  my  heart;   when  all  friends  are 
as    strangers,    and    dust    and    dirt    darken    my 
vision,  I  no  more  see  Thy  Stars. 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL       67 

When  I  am  so  self-spent  and  dead,  that  I  do  not  even 
feel  that  I  am  in  distress,  or  dying,  or  dead, — 

When  I  have  no  more  even  thirst  or  hunger,  that  old 
sweet  longing  that  swelled  the  veins  of  my  bosom 
till  they  throbbed  with  desire  of  Thee, — 

When  the  river  of  my  soul  is  swallowed  up  in  the  sands 
of  sense,  when  my  pleasures  have  killed  all  the 
grace  in  me,  and  buried  me  in  shame, — 

When  my  deeds  condemn  me  to  the  death  of  forget- 
fulness  of  Thee, — 

My  Lord!  Even  then  Thy  Mercy  shall  bless,  Thy  door 
will  be  open  for  me ! 

My  Lord!  I  hope  Thou  wilt  draw  a  veil  over  me  and 
cover  me  in  Thy  Forgiveness  from  all  shame, 
and  bathe  me,  ah!  even  me,  with  Thy  Own 
Hands,  and  enrobe  me  with  youth  and  life  again 
and  I  shall  again  hear  the  music  of  Heaven ! 

In  vain  I  loved  aught  else! 

Killing  and  slaying  one  another,  we  hardly  knew  we 
lived. 

Daily  I  drank  the  gall  of  pleasures,  and  daily  drifted 
far  from  Thee ! 

I  forgot  Thy  Omnipresence;  I  forgot  Thy  Grace  Omni- 
potent that  gave  my  very  life  to  me. 

I  revelled  in  joys  of  sense  and  self,  forgetting  Thee ! 

I  forgot  the  strength  for  sins  of  love  was  drawn  from 
Thy  blood. 

How  I  carried  on  a  traffic,  trying  not  to  know  Thou 
art! 

I  daily  lost  myself,  I  daily  wept  as  long  as  I  had  life 
left  to  shed  even  too  late  a  tear. 

But  reckless  forgetfulness  made  me  helpless,  the  dust 


68       SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

of  daily  Karmas  piled  on  me,  disease  and  death 

closed  on  me ! 
I  drifted  further  and  further  away  from  Thee,  but  I 

saw  still  the  Covenant  signed  by  Thee  on  my 

brows  and  my  last  hope  has  been  Thy  Covenant 

which  stands  as  my  sky;   sins  are  but  clouds  of 

dust  in  this  Heaven! 
I  saw  Thy  signature  arrow-writ  on  my  breast,  I  found 

this  my  last  hope  in  my  absolute  ruin:    Thy 

angels  stood  by  me  in  my  utter  dissolution. 
Such  is  Thy  Love  and  Compassion  that  reckons  not, 

nor  weighs,   nor  sits  in  judgment,   but  like  a 

mother  forgives ! ! 

In  infinite  sunshine  Thy  children  play. 
Thy  waters  roll  for  them,  Thy  winds  blow  for  them, 

Thy  starry  sky  is  arched  for  them. 
Not  a  ray  of  light  is  refused,  nor  a  grain  of  wheat  denied. 
Thy  blessings  fall  as  ever. 
Thou  art  the  True  and  Steadfast  Love,  that  gives  and 

forgives  and  knows  not  the  deeds  of  men! 

I  AM  THE  GARDENER'S  DAUGHTER 


I  AM  the  gardener's  daughter! 

My  basket  of  sky  is  filled  with  the  morning  flowers, 
And  wrapped  in  the  basket  is  the  Lotus  of  the  Sun! 
I  carry  the  basket  of  flowers  on  my  head  and  I  pass 

through  the  market ! 

The  buyers  bid  for  it  amongst  themselves 
And  many  a  youth  cried  to  have  it! 
"  It  is  not  for  sale,"  I  said,  and  passed  on. 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL       69 

The  King  of  my  country  stopped  me! 

The  King  it  was,  who  desired  it! 

"  Let  the  price  be  fixed  for  it  by  the  flower-seller,"  he 

said. 

"  O  Sire,  not  this  basket!    It  is  not  for  sale!  " 
I  said;   and  wanted  to  pass  on. 
But  I  was  stopped !   The  citizens  shouted  : 
"  O   foolish  Flower  of  a  gardener!    Knowest  thou  not 

it  is  the  King  who  wants  the  basket  of  flowers  ? 
And  I  turned  to  him  and  said: 
"  Sire!  I  am  a  poor  gardener's  daughter! 
I  am  thy  servant  and  thy  humble  slave. 
Thou  art  the  King,  our  Protector. 
But  this  is  not  thy  basket ! 

This  is  for  the  King  of  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven! 
This  is  to  be  laid  at  His  Feet ! 
Let  the  oblation  of  joy  and  love  go  free! 
Great  art  thou,  O  King!    Have  grace   upon  a   poor 

gardener's  daughter!  " 
The  King  smiled,  and  gave  the  sign.    The  crowds  made 

way  for  me! 

My  steps  hardly  touched  the  ground, 
I  was  like  one  flying  with  my  basket  of  flowers! 
My  steps  were  weaving  joy  on  the  ground,  as  with  the 

King's  grace  I  passed  on! 

ii 

I  am  the  gardener's  daughter! 

My  basket  of  sky  is  filled  with  the  morning  flowers, 
And  wrapped  in  the  basket  is  the  Lotus  of  the  Sun. 
I  carry  the  basket  of  flowers  on  my  head  and  I  pass 
through  the  city  lanes ! 


7o       SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

"  Tarry,  O  Gardener's  daughter!  Tarry! 

I  bring  you  a  handful  of  wheat !   Pray  give  me  a  wreath 

of  flowers !  "  said  a  new-wedded  bride  and  held 

out  her  arms   covered  with  crimson-lacquered, 

ivory  bangles  up  to  the  elbows! 
"No,  new  Bride!   No!  these  flowers  are  not  for  sale," 

said  I,  and  passed  on. 

"What  a  proud  poor  gardener's  daughter!  "  said  she. 
The  lanes  were  filled  with  people;    dames  and  damsels 

were  out  of  doors ! 
Some  had  their  tresses  flying,  some  but  half-combed, 

some  had  their  saris  only  half  wrapped  around, 

they  came  out  in  confusion  of  joy! 
"Flowers!    Flowers!    we  want  flowers,"  a  shout  rose 

in  the  streets! 
"  Not  for  sale!    not  for  sale!  "  said  I  hurriedly,  and 

passed  on! 
"  O  sisters!   we  never  met  such  a  proud  poor  gardener's 

daughter!  " 

m 

I  am  the  gardener's  daughter! 

My  basket  of  sky  is  filled  with  the  morning  flowers, 

And  wrapped  in  them  is  the  Lotus  of  the  Sun! 

I  carry  the  basket  on  my  head  and  I  pass  on  out  of  the 

city  lanes. 

A  young  man  caught  hold  of  me! 

"  Be  mine,  O  Gardener's  daughter!    Be  mine,"  said  he. 
"  I  will  not  let  thee  go! 
See,  I  am  young  and  fair,  I  wish  to  live  for  thee!    Be 

mine,  to-day,  be  mine! 
Look!   I  am  wholly  thine!!  " 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL       71 

"  Ah,  no,  no!   I  cannot  be  thine!! 

I  am  His  who  made  me! 

Leave  the  way  clear!  " 

"  Be  mine!    O  Gardener's  daughter!    be  mine! 

He  made  you  for  me,  and  me  for  you ! 

We  will  be  each  other's;    you  shall  be  mine  and  I  am 

yours  for  ever! 

Come!    live  indeed, — not  in  dream." 
"Ah,  no!    I  was  not  made  for  you,  nor  you  for  me; 

nor  were  we  made  to  live  for  each  other! 
I  cannot  be  thine! 
I  am  His  who  made  me. 
Life  belongs  to  Him  who  gives  life  to  us, 
Neither  can  mine  be  yours,  nor  yours  mine! 
Let  us  give  it  back  to  Him  whose  it  is ! 
Stand  aside,  O,  stand  aside! 
Stay  me  no  more,  it  is  getting  late!!  " 
"Then  say,  O  Gardener's  daughter!    How  can  I  live 

without  thy  love  ? 
How  can  I  live  without  thee  ? 
Thou  art  my  God! 
O  Gardener's  daughter!    I  kneel  down  before  thee  and 

pray   to   thee   under  the   blue   sunny  sky!     Be 

mine!    be  mine  in  this  very  shape!    My  God!  " 
"xA.li,  no,  no!    I  am  His  who  made  me! 
Unless  He  gives  me  to  thee,  I  cannot  be  thine ! 
Now  let  me  pass!   pray!   it  is  getting  late! 
You  have  wasted  many  moments  of  my  precious  day ! 
My  flowers  are  not  for  sale,  good  Sir!    This  is  not  for 

sale!"  I  said  shaking  my  head  and  passed  on! 


72       SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 


IV 

I  am  the  gardener's  daughter! 

My  basket  of  sky  is  filled  with  the  morning  flowers, 
And  wrapped  in  the  basket  is  the  Lotus  of  the  Sun ! 
I  carry  the  basket  of  flowers  on  my  head  and  I  pass  by 

the  outstretched  arms  of  men! 
Eternal  is  my  basket  of  sky! 
Ever  fresh  my  morning-flowers ! 
These  are  the  offerings  of  a  poor  gardener's  daughter, 

the   simple   earth   flowers   placed   by   my   little 

hands  in  my  basket  of  sky! 
And  I  lay  them  daily  at  His  Feet! 
He  daily  accepts  the  offerings  of  a  poor  gardener's 

daughter ! 
My  kind,  kind  King  of  Heaven! 


I  am  the  gardener's  daughter! 

My  basket  of  sky  is  filled  with  the  morning  flowers! 

And  wrapped  in  the  basket  is  the  Lotus  of  the  Sun! 

And  I  carry  the  basket  of  flowers  on  my  head. 

And  I  daily  pass  through  the  mart,  the  throng,  the 

lanes,  the  staying  hands ! 

Every  day  I  lay  my  basket  of  flowers  at  His  Feet! 
Every  day  He  takes  the  humble  offerings,  the  offerings 

of  a  poor  daughter  of  a  gardener! 
Every  day  He  says  "  My  daughter!  " 
And  every  day  I  say  "  My  Father!  " 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL       73 

AN  OFFERING 

WHAT  can  I  offer  Thee  ? 

I  have  nothing! 

I  have  been  to  the  loneliest  flower  in  the  desert, 

And  the  flower  said  to  me:    "  Pluck  me  not,  I  am  the 

flower  of  the  Temple." 
I  have  been  to  the  snow-covered  rocks  that  held  the 

most  glowing  rubies ! 
As  I  touched  them,  the  rubies  oped  their  lips  and  said : 

"  We  are  of  the  Treasury  of  the  Temple." 
Whenever  and  whatever  I  touch  to  make  it  mine,  even 

for  an  offering,         j 

An  ancient  voice  replies:   "  All  is  God's." 
All  things  are  Thine! 
All  is  in  Thy  Temple ! 
All  Thy  people  are  going  to  Thy  Temple!   each  one  has 

an  offering  for  Thee! 
The  rich  lady  has  a  purse  of  gold  and  the  poor  a  handful 

of  maize  or  wheat! 
The  young  girls  have  their  white  muslin-shawls  full  of 

roses  and  jasmine  and  narcissus! 
And  the  young  men  have  the  reverent  joy  of  their 

hearts  enclosed  in  the  lotus-wreaths  they  have 

in  their  hands! 

The  young  and  the  old  all  gather  in  Thy  Temple! 
The  white  beards  with  the  black  side  by  side ! 
The  chastened  thoughtful  flesh,  and  the  young  flesh 

full  of  a  hundred  new  meanings,  side  by  side  in 

Thy  Temple! 
The  throngs  of  pilgrims!    The  smiles  and  tears  mingle 

in  Thy  Temple! 


74       SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

The  worshipping  crowds  in  the  gaiety  of  their  life  and 
in  their  thousand-tinted  dresses,  like  the  flowers 
in  their  hands,  are  themselves  an  offering! 

What  can  I  bring  Thee  as  an  offering  ? 

I  have  nothing! 

In  every  limb,  in  every  part  of  myself,  I  found  Thy 
Divine  seal  from  old  Eternity. 

It  were  a  shame  to  make  an  offering  of  myself  before 
Thy  creation,  where  everything,  from  the  lowest 
clod  of  clay  to  the  loftiest  star,  names  Thee. 

What  can  I  bring  Thee  as  an  offering!    I  have  nothing! 

To  offer  Thy  slave  for  service,  unless  thou  callest  him 
to  it,  what  would  it  mean  but  an  excess  of  the 
"  blood  of  ignorance  "  ? 

For  I  am  one  without  worth. 

To  offer  myself,  without  Thy  calling  me,  what  would 
it  be  but  folly  ? 

Ah!  I  know,  how  at  times  Thou  didst  call  me  and  how 
I  failed  even  to  understand  Thy  orders ! 

Whatever  I  dared  to  do,  I  did  it  wrong. 

There  lie  a  thousand  vessels  that  Thou  didst  give  me 
to  carry  and  I  dropped  them  into  pieces! 

Ashamed  of  myself,  I  put  my  finger  under  my  teeth, 
and  stand  with  my  head  cast  down  before  Thy 
creation,  like  an  utter  fool. 

It  is  right,  Thou  shalt  call  me  no  more  to  any  service! 

Full  of  shame,  I  now  live  far,  far  away  from  Thy  palace- 
door  in  one  of  Thy  out-houses,  in  my  poverty 
and  nakedness. 

At  last! 

A  lonely  bed,  an  old  man,  two  blind  eyes;  absolute 
nothing! 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL       75 

The  sun  rises  for  the  blind  man  under  his  little  low  roof, 

Thou  standest  by  my  bed-side! 

I  find  Thee  bending  over  Thy  so  unserviceable  a  slave! 

I  find  a  tear  from  Thy  eyes  falling  on  my  naked  breast. 

I  find  Thou  hast  come!  . 

My  Lord!  my  eyes  are  blind,  they  see  not,  my  back- 
bone is  weak,  I  can  rise  no  more  from  my  bed, 

I  am  Thy  servant  lying  in  one  of  Thy  out-houses ! 

My  Lord!   An  old,  unserviceable  servant  of  Thine! 

My  Lord !   I  have  nothing  to  offer  Thee ! 

Only  a  pair  of  blind,  old,  shivering  hands  groping  in 
the  dark  for  Thee! 


READINGS  FROM  "  GURU  GRANTH 


READINGS  FROM  "  GURU  GRANTH  " 

JAPJI 

(MAHLA  I.,  Guru  Nanak) 

I 

HE  is  One.    He  is  the  First.    He  is  all  that  is. 

His  name  is  Truth. 

He  is  the  Creator  of  all. 

Fearing  naught,  striking  fear  in  naught;    His   Form, 

on    lands    and    waters,    is    Eternity;     the    One 

Self-existent. 
Through  the  Grace  of  His  true  servant,   continually 

repeat  His  Name. 


II 

He  was  in  the  beginning;  He  is  through  all  ages,  he 
shall  be  the  One  who  lives  for  ever. 

Beyond  thought,  no  thinking  can  conceive  Him,  not 
even  if  the  minds  of  men  should  think  for  ages 
and  ages. 

Nor  silence  can  see  Him,  even  if  the  minds  of  men 
meditate  on  Him  for  ages  and  ages. 

Nor  can  He  be  known  by  gaining  the  worlds ;  for  man's 
desire  is  never  satiated,  even  though  all  the 
worlds  laden  with  gold  fall  to  his  share. 

No  human  thoughts  can  carry  man  far. 

79 


8o       SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

The  movements  of  his  mind,  the  thousand  acts  of 
wisdom  of  the  world,  leave  him  dark;  nothing 
avails. 

Vain  are  the  ways  of  men. 

How  then  to  find  Him  ? 

How  then  to  get  rid  of  the  dark  pall  ? 

One  way  there  is, — to  make  His  Will  our  own.  No  other 
way,  naught  else. 

Ill 

Great  is  His  Will!! 

All  manifest  things  are  forms  of  His  Will. 

His  Will  is  indefinable ! 

Of  His  Will  is  made  all  sentient  life; 

It  is  His  Will  that  some  are  great,  some  are  small. 

All  existence  is  bound  by  His  Supreme  Will. 

Nothing  is  outside  the  sphere  of  His  Will;  such  is  Truth! 

Seek  His  Will, — this  is  to  live. 

If  one  sees  the  Universal  Will  at  work,  then  one  can 

never  say  "  'Tis  I." 
The  bards  have  chanted  hymns  in  praise  of  Him,  His 

Power  and  His  Great  Gifts,  and  sung  His  Signs. 

IV 

He  who  builds  and  unbuilds  the  Universe, — in  whom 
All  Being  is,  coming  forth  from  Him,  and 
returning  back  to  Him, — seems  so  far,  yet  so 
near;  Omnipresent,  Omniscient,  Him  have  ages 
adored ! 

Countless  millions  have  sung  of  Him,  yet  he  still  remains, 
unknown  and  unsung! 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL       81 

For  ages  and  ages,  have  men  sat  at  His  Feet,  for  ages 
and  ages  they  ate  from  His  Hands,  for  ages  and 
ages  they  have  drunk  of  His  Inspiration,  and 
in  such  abundance  that  the  vessels  could  never 
be  enough  to  hold  it  all. 

They  are  powerless  to  receive  what  He  gives ! 

By  Him  are  ordained  many  paths  of  life;  men  and 
things  go  whither  He  wills  them  to  go. 

And  everywhere  the  Creator  smiles  in  His  Glory,  in 
Eternal  Repose  Undaunted,  Undisturbed,  the 
Infinite,  the  whole  creation's  Lord! 

His  Nam  is  the  Substance  of  which  all  life  is  made.  His 
Nam  enlarges  the  heart  and  makes  it  limitless. 

His  creatures  beg  their  daily  needs  from  Him,  He  gives 
all  things  to  men. 

Naught  is  our  own;  all  is  His  that  we  possess,  this  life 
and  all  is  His ! 

With  what  offerings,  could  we  enter  His  Temple  ? 

With  what  virtue,  His  Presence  ? 

What  words  have  we  on  our  lips  to  win  His  Delight  ? 

V 

Meditate  on  His  Nam  at  Morn,  wet  with  the  ambrosia 

of  the  day-break! 

Our  doings  make  this  vesture  of  our  body, 
The  Heaven  shall  cover  our  shame  with  honour,  and 

by  the  light  of  His  Glance  we  shall  go  free. 
The  Dawn  of  Divine  Knowledge  cometh  from  within, 

and  man  sees  God  as  the  Light  Revealing. 
High  above  all  things  is  the  Revealed  Infinite,  in  Himself 

Self-resplendent,  Glorious ! 


82       SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

Great  are  they  and  honoured  of  Heaven  who  serve  His 
Will,  He  is  the  Treasure-House  of  all  Goodness 
and  Beauty. 

VI 

Sing,  ye  men,  His  Greatness! 

Be  wise  in  Him;  believe  in  Him! 

Fill  your  hearts  with  His  Love  and  His  Greatness, 

Thus  ye  shall  go  free  of  pain  and  illusion, 

Thus  ye  shall  be  released,  gaining  the  joy  of  Freedom 
in  Him,  who  is  All-Beatitude ! 

It  is  the  Master  who  can  implant  the  seed  of  Faith  in 
man,  the  Master  is  the  inspirer  of  Hari  Nam. 

This  divine  illumination,  he  achieves  in  man. 

Through  His  Good  Will  and  Love,  one  sees  the  presence 
of  God  in  all  things  and  everywhere. 

It  is  the  Master's  gift,  this  life  of  holy  inspiration  and 
love  of  Nam, 

All  gods  are  contained  in  the  Master: — Shiva,  Fishnoo, 
Brahma,  and  the  goddesses  Parvati,  Lakshmi 
and  Sarasvati,  and  the  Vedas  are  in  Him  and 
all  song:  He  is  the  music  of  the  Infinite! 

The  All-Sustainer  of  souls,  the  All-Nourisher  is  But  One! 

Thus  has  the  Master  proclaimed. 

Understand  but  one  fact  of  all  facts. — Forget  Him  not! 

In  thy  own  mind  is  all,  thou  hast  in  it  the  gems  and 
jewels  of  thought  and  virtue  of  all  power,  good- 
ness and  beauty, 

But  at  the  feet  of  the  Master,  learn  one  lesson:— 
Forget  not  thy  Maker,  the  All-Giver,  All- 
Sustainer,  the  Creator! 

(This  is  Simranl   This  is  repetition  of  Ndml) 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL       83 

VII 

If  ye  do  His  Will,  it  is  enough  Tiratb  l  for  ye  to  bathe 
in  holiness  and  joy, 

If  ye  do  not  His  Will,  naught  else  availeth! 

If  a  man  live  yugas  four,  or  tens  of  yugas  2  more,  have 
fame  spreading  all  over  the  nine  continents  and 
all  men  to  follow  him,  giving  him  the  praise  and 
renown  of  the  world, 

Let  him  be  as  rich  and  as  great  as  this,  yet  without 
the  light  of  His  Glance  beaming  on  him,  he  is 
unseen,  he  is  counted  but  a  worm  amongst 
worms;  he  shall  envy  even  the  fate  of  sinners! 

But  wondrous  are  the  ways  of  the  Maker,  He  makes 
the  disabled  able,  the  able  abler. 

Great  is  His  All-bestowing  Mercy ! 

He  adds  unto  all  out  of  His  Own  Stores,  no  second 
such  as  can  add  unto  Him. 

(He  is  the  Infinite  Supreme,  above  all!) 

VIII 

By  Thee  informed,  O  Lord,  standeth  the  earth, 

The  stars  hang  in  space  and  sky  is  above, 

Inspired  by  Thee  are  the  lower  regions,  the  continents 

of  men,  the  adepts,  guides  and  gods. 
They  die  not  who  are  thus  informed. 
Distress  and  sin  to  death  and  dust  return. 
Thou  informest  all  gods,  angels  and  heavens. 
The  light  of  Thy  inspiration  makes  the  beggar  noble, 

his  raiment  worthy  of  all  praise. 

1  Holy  rivers  and  places  of  pilgrimage. 
*  Yuga  is  a  cycle  of  ages. 


84       SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

Inspiration  reveals  the  secrets  of  life  and  self;  and  one 

knoweth  all,  knowing  Thee. 
Information    of    Thee    contains    All-peace,    All-truth, 

All-knowledge;    all  learning  is  noble  thereby, 
The  mind  of  man  itself  concentrates  in  Self,  attained 

is  the  Unattainable,  the  Unknowable  is  known, 

the   blind   finds  out  his   path,   secure  from   sin 

and  sorrow. 
Thus  bathed  in  the  bliss  of  holiness,  Thy  saints  are  for 

ever  as  full-blown  blossoms  of  Peace. 


IX 

What  words  can  tell  the  state  of  those  who  live  in  faith 

and  trust,  who  make  His  Will  their  own? 
The  Soul  mounts  high,  Reason  and  mind  grow  clear; 

Fates  wait  with  bated  breaths, 
They  are  freed  of  pain  of  flesh,  of  the  dreadful  grasp 

of  Tamo's  Noose,  and  lost  in  Self,  straight  is 

the  path  of  life  for  them. 
Great  is  His  Nam. 
The  path  of  faith,  nothing  can  bar  nor  mar  nor  change; 

they  speed  to  Higher  Regions  beyond  Death  and 

decay,   unhindered  on,   and  gain  the   Seats  of 

Honour  hereafter. 
The  journey  over,  the  men  of  faith  have  reached  the 

goal ! ! 

Saved  are  they  and  their  kith  and  kin. 
Their  life  gains  its  freedom  of  the  Infinite. 
No  more,  desire-pulled,  it  wanders  a-begging. 
They  know  Thy  Will  as  their  own;   together  both  the 

Guru  and  the  Disciples  are  saved! 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL       85 

All  Glorious  is  His  Naml 

The  door  of  life  opens  up  to  those  who  have  forgone 

themselves  in  faith  and  love. 
Men  whom  He  appoints  and  to  whom  He  gives  authority 

are  the  true  teachers  of  men,  they  guide  and 

lay  for  man  the  path. 

They  are  honoured  of  the  kingdom  of  God. 
They  are  the  stars  that  make  this  earth  a  shining  spot. 
The  chosen  of  God  live  in  the  Guru. 
Their  one  fixed  Dhyan l  is  His  Person. 
(Their  breath  is  His  Breath,  their  life  is  His  Life.   Their 

mind  wanders  not,  nor  their  heart  strays  from 

the  sphere  of  the  Love  of  the  Master!!) 

X 

The  works  of  the  Architect  of  this  Universe  are  above 

all  reckoning ;  they  speak  foolishly  who  say  they 

can  conceive  God. 

They  say  this  earth  is  borne  on  the  horns  of  the  Bull. 
But  there  is  earth  beyond  earth,  planets  on  planets 

beyond,  heavy  indeed  is  the  load  on  the  horns 

of  the  Bull! 
It  is  not  the  Bull,  it  is  Dkarmd,  sprung  from  Love, 

who  bears  the  weight  of  the  worlds. 

XI 

Ah!  who  can  count  the  countless  forms  of  life  with 
which  teems  this  world  below  and  above,  their 
names  or  species  or  hues  ? 

1  Meditation.   Subject  of  meditation. 


86       SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

They  are  the  letters  writ  by  His  Flowing  Pen;    who 

now  can  write,  count  or  reckon  that  which  the 

Maker  has  made  ? 

How  fair  are  forms  made  by  the  Creator! 
How  Mighty  Thou !  O  Lord! 
How  enchantingly  sweet  is  Thy  emanation! 
How  great  is  the  kingdom  of  Nature  that  Thou  hast 

given  to  Man ! 

Thou  didst  create  all  this  but  by  one  word. 
From  one  word  of  Thy  Lips  is  made  this  thousand- 

rivered  Nature! 

How  shall  I  praise  Thy  Miracle  of  Nature  ? 
I  am  filled  with  the  sweetness  of  its  beauty! 
At  its  altar,  I  fain  would  lay  myself  as  a  sacrifice,  but 

too  poor  am  I  to  gain  my  heart's  desire,  ah! 

even  but  once!! 

Thy  Will,  O  Beautiful!  is  good. 
Thy  Pleasure  is  all ! 

XII 

0  Formless  One!  Thou  art  for  ever!   How  various  Thy 

mankind!! 

Myriads  of  men  in  myriad  ways  of  life! 
Some  name  Thee  and  some  are  in  pious  penance  engaged, 
Myriads  recite  from  memory  the  Holy  Books, 
And  myriads  are  lost  in  deep  T  ogd-Smadhi  l  with  their 

hearts  full  of  sadness  for  the  evanescence  of  the 

Maya,  they  are  those  who  have  grown  indifferent 

to  the  world. 
Myriads  more  are  Thy  devotees  who  meditate  on  Thy 

Knowledge  and  Beauty. 

1  Trance  of  Union. 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL      87 

Myriads  have  taken  the  vow  of  Right. 

Generous  myriads  who  take  delight  in  giving  themselves 
and  theirs  away! 

Myriads  are  the  mighty  Heroes  Brave  who  bear  the 
brunt  of  steel  in  war  with  joy, 

Myriads  are  vowed  to  Silence  with  their  mind  fixed  on 
the  Eternal! 

And  myriads  there  are  who  are  fools,  blind  mind  and 
heart,  thieves  and  those  that  live  on  plunder. 

Myriads,  such  as  bind  their  fellow-men  by  their  might, 

Myriads,  such  as  live  the  life  of  sin,  and  spread  false- 
hood, lies  and  scandals. 

XIII 

O  Infinite,  how  can  I  come  to  know  Thy  Nature  ? 
Intoxicated  with  its  Beauty,  I  fain  would  lay  myself 

at  its  altar  as  a  sacrifice,  but  too  poor  to  do  my 

heart's  desire,  ah!    even  but  once! 
Thy  Will,  O  Beautiful,  is  good! 
Thy  Pleasure  is  all ! 
O  Formless  One!  Thou  art  for  ever! 

XIV 

Beyond  the  reach  of  our  senses  and  thought, 

Myriads  are  Thy  world-systems,  myriad  the  spheres, 

and  various  are  the  descriptions  that  the  mighty 

thinkers  give  of  them. 
This  world  is  Thy  writing! 
This    manifested    emanation,    these    objects    are    the 

Alphabets  of  Thy  Word, 


88       SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

Through  these  letters  we  name  Thee,  by  their  aid  we 
praise  Thee,  by  them  is  all  our  knowledge  of 
Thee,  with  their  aid  we  sing  of  Thy  Beauty. 

Magic  are  these  letters,  we  %write  and  speak. 

These  letters  are  forms  of  human  destiny  writ  on  every 
man's  forehead! 

The  Forehead  of  Him  who  wrote  all  this  is  without 
these  lines  of  form  and  shape  and  Fates. 

He  is  free,  He  can  never  be  writ ! ! 

As  He  ordaineth  so  His  creatures  are! 

Great  is  His  Make  and  great  is  His  Glory! 

There  is  no  place  where  His  Glory  is  not, 

Thy  Will,  O  Beautiful!  is  good! 

Thy  Pleasure  is  all! 

O  Formless  One!  Thou  art  for  ever. 


XV 

The  hands  and  feet  and  skin  when  mud-besmeared  are 

washed  free  of  dirt  by  water,  our  vestures  when 

soiled  are  cleaned  by  washing; 
But  when  the  dirt  of  sins  makes  dark  our  mind,  naught 

else   but  Thy   Nam  can  restore   to  it   its   fair 

transparency, 
It  needs  be  washed  with  the  love  of  Thy  Nam,  0  Lord! 


XVI 

The  man  reaps  as  he  sows. 

It  is  His  Will,  men  come  and  go  on  the  Wheel  of  Birth 
and  Death. 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL       89 

Small  indeed  is  the  honour  won  outside  of  Self  by  making 
pilgrimage  and  penance,  or  being  kind  and  giving 
charity  to  others,  if  one  has  not  been  within 
himself  and  bathed  in  the  Ambrosial  River 
within, if  one  has  not  felt  Holy  Inspiration  within, 
if  the  seed  of  faith  is  not  put  in  the  soil  of 
the  heart,  if  love  has  yet  not  sprung! 

XVII 

All  kinds  of  Beauty  are  Thine,  O  Lord! 

No  beauty  whatever  I  have,  how  can  I  aspire  to  love 
Thee  if  Thou  makest  me  not  beautiful  of  heart 
and  wakest  me  not  to  see  Thy  Beauty  every- 
where ! 

O  Self-Existent,  Eternal,  Beauty! 

From  Thee  has  emanated  the  Holy  Nam-lite ! 

What  is  the  name  of  the  Day  and  what  was  the  time, 

what  season  and  what  month  was  it,  wrhen  Thou 

first  made  the  world  ? 
The  Pundits  know  naught  of  the  dawn  of  Thy  Creation 

to  record  it  in  the  Porands,1 
Nor  have  the  Qazis  2  seen  that  time  to  put  it  down  in 

the  Quran,* 
Nor  do  the  Yogis  know  of  that  season,  hour,  date  nor 

the  day. 

1  Sacred  books  of  the  Hindus. 

*  Mohammedan  Scribes.  3  The  Koran. 


9o       SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

XVIII 

That   Beautiful  Hour  when  He  made  this   world  He 

Himself  alone  doth  know, 
Beyond  our  speech,   our  praise,   our   description   and 

knowledge  is  the  Beautiful  Maker! 
Still  they  speak  of  Him,  each  and  all  according  to  their 

mite,  as  one  is  wiser  than  another. 

XIX 

He  is  the  Great  and  the  Infinite  One;   and  great  is  His 

Nam, 

What  He  wills  cometh  to  pass. 
He  knows  whatever  is. 
If  any  one  else  says  he  knows  Him,  he  is  but  a  foci  in 

the  eyes  of  the  dwellers  of  higher  regions. 
There  are  skies  above  skies  and  earths  below  earths 

and  man's  mind  is  tired  of  this  great  search, 
It  cannot  reach  the  end  of  His  Vastness. 
All  knowledge  of  man  and  his  thousand  books  proclaim 

but  One  Truth,  that  there  is  but  One  Substance 

of  which  all  this  is  made. 

There  is  but  One  Metal  in  all.    None  else!    None  else! 
How  can  the   Infinite   be   reduced   to   the  Finite?   all 

attempts  to  describe  Him  are  lost. 
The  Infinite  knows  the  Infinite. 

XX 

Ours  is  to  lose  ourselves  in  worship  and  adoration,  nor 
need  we  ask,  Why  ? 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL       91 

No  need  to  fathom  the  Unfathomable:  As  the  rivers 
flow  to  the  sea  with  their  song,  let  us  flow  on 
to  the  Infinite,  not  knowing  how  wide  is  the 
ocean's  flood, 

Like  an  ocean  is  the  Lord  Almighty. 

If  one  has  wealth-heaps  as  high  as  pyramids, 

Let  him  be  ever  so  rich,  yet  is  he  less  than  the  little 
ant,  the  ant  that  forgets  not  its  Maker. 

(The  small  man  that  enshrines  the  Sultan  within  is 
all-great.) 

No  end  to  Thee,  O  Infinite!    nay,  those  who  worship 

and  love  Thee  have  no  end; 

No  end  to  Thy  Forgiveness,  endless  are  Thy  Gifts. 
Thy   Vision   and    Inspiration  are  infinite  and   endless 

is  Thy  Purpose ! ! 

XXI 

Endless    is   Thy  Creation,   we   see    neither   Thy    Near 

nor  Thy  Far,  Thou  hast  neither  this,  nor  that, 

shore. 
For  touching  either  end  of  Thine,  serious  minds  almost 

cry  with  pain, 
Thy  secret  is  the  pang  of  their  souls,  but  they  cannot 

touch  Thy  limits  at  any  point. 
The  more  we  say,  the  more  it  grows;    for  us  the  more 

we  know,  the  more  is  our  ignorance! 
Exalted  is  the  Owner  of  the  spheres ! 
Higher  than  our  senses  is  His  abode; 
One   must   gain   those   heights    before   one   catches    a 

glimpse. 


92       SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

It  is  He  whose  glance  can  lift  us  up,  to  see  Him. 
His  glance  is  a  gift  of  Heaven. 

Abundant  is  His  Mercy,  as  great  as  Himself. 

He  giveth  and  giveth,  taketh  not  even  a  mustard  seed 

from  aught  else. 
The  great   warriors   beg  their  might  from   Him   and 

numberless  wrecks  of  sin  wait  at  His  Door. 
There  are  others  who  receive  His  Plenty  and  eating 

His  Bread  deny  Him;    fools  think  not  on  his 

mysteries. 

XXII 

In  Thy  courtyard  die  thousands  of  hunger  and  of  the 

ills  of  flesh. 
O  Almighty  Giver!    This  too  is  Thy  Mercy,  this  too  is 

Thy  Love. 

By  Thy  Will  the  chains  of  the  prisoners  drop. 
The  bound  are  freed  and  the  free  are  bound,  who  else 

could  divine  Thy  Purpose,  who  else  could  say 

aught  ? 
If  any  dare  go  against  Thy  Will,  he  will   know  for 

himself  how  painful  to  him  is  his  pride. 

He  knows  us  all  better  than  we  know  ourselves. 

He  gives  what  is  best  for  us;   few  are  those  who  believe 

and  bow  to  this  truth. 
Those  on  whom  He  bestows  His  song  are  greater  than 

kings,  those  who  have  worship  in  their  hearts 

are  nobler  by  far  than  the  great  ones  of  this 

earth. 
The  poet's  heart  is  rich! 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL       93 

XXIII 

Priceless  and  precious,  Oh  Lord,  Thy  Beauty ! 

How  Thy  Worth  reposes  on  its  infinite  glory,  in  price 

and  in  value  one  and  the  same ! 
Pricelessly  precious  are  the  wares  of  Nam, 
Thou  art  the  Eternal  Merchant ! 
Thy  stores  are  infinite,  too  precious  to  be  priced ! 
Precious  beyond  measure  is  what  Thou  givest  and  what 

Thou  takest  away,  the  exchange  is  pricelessly 

precious. 
The  rate  at  which  Thou  dealest  in  love  is  of  limitless 

worth,  and  how  infinitely  sweet  the  hour  Thou 

bestowest  love! 
Thy    delicate   balance   is    priceless,    Thy    weights    and 

weighings ! 

How  common  and  how  precious  are  Thy  Signs ! 
Pricelessly  precious  is  the  word  from  Thy  Lips, 
Pricelessly  precious  is  Thy  Forgiveness ! 
How  common  and  how  precious  art  Thou ! 
Too  common  to  be  felt  as  preciousness  itself,  there  is 

no  other  value;    all  descriptions  stutter  and  are 

lost  in  a  silence  which  wonders  and  fixes  its  gaze 

on  Thee  for  ever. 

XXIV 

Though  the  Vedas  speak  of  Him,  and  the  Poranas, 

Though  the  learned  discourse  on  Him,  and  Indra  and 

Brahmas    expound    His    law,   Krishna  and   His 

Gopfs  speak  of  Him,  Shiva  and  the  adepts  tell 

about  God  and  all  the  Buddhas  proclaim  Him, 


94       SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

Though  millions  have  spoken  thus;  though  millions 
came  and  sat  and  left  their  seats  and  have  gone, 

And  if  there  come  as  many  more  creations,  and  all 
speak  of  Him,  yet  He  shall  forever  remain  The 
Undescribed ! 

And  Thou,   O  Lord,   art    more    than   our   minds    can 

comprehend. 

Thou  art  as  Great  as  Thou  canst  be! 
Thou  art  the  Verity,  Thou  art  the  One  Reality; 
Thou  alone  knowest  Thyself. 

XXV 

Where  art  Thou,  O  Lord?  where  is  Thy  Door?  where 
is  Thy  Tower-House  from  where  Thou  carest 
for  all,  on  whose  walls  breaks  the  music  of  the 
Universe  in  its  Endless  Song  ? 

How  many  are  the  instruments ! 

How  countless  are  the  tunes  and  chants  of  this  World- 
Music  ! 

How  countless  are  the  voices  that  sing,  countless  are 
their  undulations ! 

O  Lord!  the  winds  and  waters  and  fires  sing  thee; 
the  King  of  Right  and  Wrong  and  his  angels; 

Ishwara  and  Brahma  and  the  goddesses  Thou  hast 
clothed  with  Thy  Beauty,  sing  Thee ; 

Ind.ro,  the  owner  of  the  three  worlds  with  His  Court  of 
gods,  sings  the  same  chorus! 

The  silence  of  the  Adepts  and  Saints  sings ! 

The  Heroes  of  self-control,  of  patience,  of  celibacy,  of 
learning,  are  a  Song  of  Thee ! 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL       95 

The  Seers  pass  with  prophecy  along  the  ages,  singing; 
and  the  Goddesses,  that  invest  the  air,  the  sky 
and  earth,  with  music  of  their  limbs  and  eyes, 
their  robes  and  gems,  their  life  and  joy,  are  a 
Song. 

XXVI 

The  Holy  Lands  and  Rivers  roll  in  music,  the  crystal- 
jewels  of  men  roll  in  Thy  Song. 

The  mighty  and  all-heroic  are  made  of  Song. 

Thy  Kingdoms  Four  sing  Thee! 

And  Thy  vast  solar  systems,  Thy  planets  and  their 
satellites,  whom  Thou  art  holding  in  Thy  Hands, 
raise  the  music  of  Thy  praise! 

Only  those  whom  Thou  admittest,  can  enter  into  this 
Song, 

Thy  poets,  divinely  led,  whose  souls  are  dyed  with  the 
red  dye  of  Thy  Lips,  are  in  Thy  Song  Eternal! 

There  is  music  in  music,  aye!  music  beyond  music. 
Transcendental  is  Thy  Song! 

XXVII 

The  same  and  the  same  and  the  Eternally  True  is  My 

Master ! 

He  forever  subsists,  His  Nam  is  True. 
He  is;    He  shall  be;    He  cannot  be  thought  away,  nor 

doth  He  depart. 
He   made   this   world  of   diverse   shapes   and   colours, 

fold  on  fold,  embryo  within  embryo,   that  new 

to  newer  grows  and  watches  my  Lord  and  His 

in  Glory! 


96       SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

All  moves  by  His  will. 

He  wills  as  He  wills. 

None  can  undo  His  will. 

My  Lord  is  the  King  of  Kings,  the  Absolute! 


XXVIII 

Of  what  avail  are  thy  ear-rings,  O  Yogi  ? l  better  adorn 

thy  mind  with  peace. 
Have  no  desires  pulling  at  thy  heart;    mind  not  what 

happens. 
Of  what  use  the  Yogi's  Jboli  that  thou  wearest  ?  make 

retirement  within  the  chambers  of  thy  soul  thy 

Jboli  \ 

Be  self-contained  and  centred  in  thy  own  Self. 
This  Bhibut 2  doth  not  help  thee  to  forget  thy  body, 

make  Dhyan  thy  Bhibut,  by  Dbydn   this    body 

will  be  that  raiment  which  death  can  touch  not, 
Wear,  0  Yogi,  this  Kbinta3  of  new  Youth  that  fades 

not. 

Make  Faith  thy  Staff. 
Take  the  middle  path  and  be  patient. 
Thou  canst  not  be  of  Ai  Sect  of  Toga  by  roaming  with 

the  so-called  Yogis;    but  only  if  thou  sharest 

thy  goodness  in  company  with  the  whole  world. 

1  This  is  evidently  addressed  to  a  Yogi  of  the  Ai  Sect.    They 
bore  their  ears  and  put  in  thick  ear-rings  of  Jade  or  wood.   They 
have  a  wallet  like  a  bag  of  cloth  swung  round  their  shoulders 
in  which  they  keep  the  alms.    They  besmear  their  bodies  with 
ashes.    They  wear  a  long  gown  made  of  shreds  of  cloths.    They 
also  have  a  staff. 

2  Ashes  besmeared  on  the  body. 

3  The  gown  of  shreds. 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL       97 

XXIX 

The  Conquest  of  the  world  is  but  the  Conquest  of  thy 
Self. 

Bow  to  Him  who  is  the  Beginning  of  all  and  Who 
Himself  is  without  beginning,  Primal,  the  Pure, 
Immutable,  Eternal,  Who  is  the  One  Life  un- 
changing from  age  to  age ! 


Thy  Bread  be  knowledge  of  God. 

And  be  kind  to  all;  there  is  the  same  throb  of  life  in  all 

hearts. 

All  things  are  strung  in  the  string  of  one  life. 
All  power  of  the  Earth  and  Heaven  is  His. 


Things  are  made  and  unmade,  the  Wheel  of  Creation 

whirls  around  this  change. 
To  each  one  is  measured  out  nor  less  nor  more  but  what 

is  writ  in  his  own  destiny ! 
Bow  to  Him  who  is  the  Beginning  of  all  and  who 

Himself   is   without    beginning, — the   Pure,    the 

Immutable,  the  Eternal,  Who  is  the  One  Life 

unchanging  from  age  to  age! 
The  three  children  of  Maya1  revolve  around  the  affairs 

of  the  world. 
One  produces,  the  other  nourishes,  the  third  destroys, 

but  these  Regents  work  as  He  bids  them,  they 

1  It  evidently  refers  to  three  dynamic  principles  that  keep 
creation  going. 


98       SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

move  as  He  commands,  He  sees  them,  though 

they  see  Him  not.1 
Salute    the    Beginningless    Beginning,    the    Colourless 

Purity,    the    Deathless    Verity,    the    Changing 

Permanence,   which  is   the  same   through   ages 

and  ages!! 

God  makes,  and  sees  what  He  has  made. 
He  is  the  Lover  of  Beauty;    the  art  of  God  transcends 

our  senses. 
No  need  of  sitting  in  one  posture,  O  Yogi ! 

XXX 

The  Fair  God  is  everywhere!! 

He  feedeth  us  in  all  the  spheres;  allotted  to  us  is  our 
share,  even  before  our  birth ! 

Salute  the  Beginningless  Beginning,  the  Colourless 
Purity,  the  Deathless  Verity,  the  Changing 
Permanence,  which  is  the  same  through  ages 
and  ages!! 

If  one  tongue  of  man  were  as  myriads,  these  myriads 
made  myriads  more  again;  and  if  one  single 
utterance  were  as  if  a  wheel  of  sound, — whose 
echoes  again  a  myriad  had  moved, — reverberated 
through  the  leaves  of  the  forest  and  blades  of 
grass,  so  that  the  sacred  sound  bound  with  its 
spell  all  nature  with  its  countless  threats  and 
voices, 

With  such  a  tongue  and  with  such  a  sound  when  Man 
says  Hail,  Lord! 

1  The  idea  is  quite  clear,  that  the  three  principles  of 
Maya  are  all  of  the  objective,  while  God  is  the  subject,  the 
Absolute. 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL       99 

Each  pore  of  his  skin  sending  forth  a  strain  with  the 

music  of  His  Nam, 
Then  is  the  man  at  one  with  his  Maker,  then  Man  mounts 

high,  and  is  one  with  God;  there  is  no  other  way ! 

XXXI 

We  have  heard  the  whispers  of  gods  on  high;  the  worm 
of  the  earth  begins  to  vie  with  those  whose 
souls  are  lit  by  the  glances  of  God,  who  beam 
with  Beatitude  Eternal! 

The  Man  plays  the  fool  in  thinking  so  much.of  himself. 

What  are  his  resolves,  his  ideas  and  efforts,  labour  and 
pain? 

Are  not  his  deeds  as  fates  combined  against  him  ? 

Is  not  his  past  self  his  own  undoer  ? 

No  way  of  escape  from  the  wheel  of  birth  and  death 
but  His  Saving  Mercy,  His  Grace  and  Glance! 

0  Lord!   throw  me  not  on  myself,  of  my  will  I  can  nor 

speak  nor  observe  silence. 
Throw  me  not  on  my  own  strength;   of  my  will  I  can 

nor  pray  nor  give  myself  to  Thee! 
Nor  I  can  follow  life  nor  even  Death! 
Not  by  my  own  power  can  I  a  beggar  be,  or  a  king ;  throw 

me  not  on  myself,  for  by  myself  I  can  nor  gain 

my  soul  nor  the  knowledge  of  Thyself. 
Throw  me  not  on  myself,  for  I  am  unable  to  cross  the 

Sea  of  change. 

1  cannot,  O  Lord! 

Let  him  who  has  strength  in  his  arms  try,  but  man  is 

weak  man  for  all  that. 
All  men  are  the  same,  nor  more  nor  less,  when  seen 

from  the  Eternal. 


ioo     SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 


XXXII 

Day  and  night  He  made. 

He  made  the  seasons,  He  made  the  winds  and  waters 

and  fires  and  nether  regions. 
In  mid-air  is  put  this  earth  and  held  firm;   this  is  the 

land  of  Duty, 
It  is  as  the  temple  of  God. 
This  earth  is  flower-dyed  with  diverse  species  of  life, 

the  earth  teems  with  their  infinitude, 
As  we  do  here,  so  shall  we  be  judged, 
The  Court  of  God  separates  chaff  from  wheat,  there 

shall  be  measured  unto  us  our  raw  and  ripe. 
Each  man  shall  stand  alone:   his  own  deeds  shall  avail 

after  the  life  of  this  earth. 


XXXIII 

Honour  is  there  for  the  Chosen  of  God  and  they  shall 
be  received  by  Him  with  kindness  and  love  and 
He  shall  look  at  them,  such  is  the  way  of  the 
Dharma-kband,  the  Region  of  Action. x 

The  Spirit  of  Judgment  rules  over  the  Realm  of  Action ! 

Great  God  is  merciful! 

But  the  way  of  the  Region  of  the  Mind  2  is  another. 
The  Spirit  of  Divine  Knowledge  reigns  here! 

1  The  reference  is  to  the  Realm  of  Limitation  where  the 
embodied  souls  have  to  work  out  their  destiny — The  Jiva 
Srishti — The  Man-world. 

s  This  is  the  Region  of  Liberation — the  Ishwar  Shiristi,  the 
God-world. 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL     101 

In  the  mind  roll  winds  and  waters  and  fires, 

In  the  mind  are  Krishnas,  Sbivds,  Srabmas  by  thousands 

and  an  endless  variety  of  name  and  form  and 

dress. 
And  in  it  are  contained  thousand  Regions  of  Duty, 

countless  stars,  moons  and  suns. 
In  it  are  countless  Heavens,  and  countless  again  are 

the  countries  and  lands  and  homes. 
In  it  are  adepts,  Buddhds,  Yogis,  gods  and  demons. 
In  it  are  saints. 

XXXIV 

In  the  mind  surge  the  seas,  and  in  it  are  jewels  and 

precious  gems. 
In  it  are  the  sources  of  life,  and  in  it  are  countless 

languages  and  countless  lines  of  Kings. 
In  it  are  the  Masters  of  the  Divine  Knowledge  and  in 

it  are  those  who  worship. 
There  is  the  Infinite  in  the  Infinite!! 

» 

The  Region  of  Mind  is  lit  with  God's  light. 

There  is  music  endless,  there  is  bliss  untold. 

Then  comes  the  higher  Realm  of  Ecstasy! 

There  is  the  holy  Rapture,  here  is  naught  but  Beauty. 

Here  are  the  Titans  at  work,  making  idols  of  beauty,  and 

here  in  this  Realm  of  Ecstasy  are  made  intellect 

and  understanding,  wisdom  and  power  of  men 

and  gods. 
Beyond  all  words  is  this  Sphere  of  Ecstasy  as  subtle 

as  a  Trance. 
Its  reigning  Deity  is  Beauty!! 


102     SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

XXXV 

Higher  than  the  Region  of  Ecstasy  is  the  Realm  of 

Grace. 

The  Gods  of  Power  rule  over  this  Realm, — 
Great  masters  who  lift  man  by  force  as   he   toils    to 

it    through   the    three   other   Realms   of   Duty, 

Knowledge  and  Ecstasy. 

Incomparable,  the  dwellers  of  the  Realm  of  Grace; 
They  are  mighty  heroes  full  of  God's  Power ! 
One  understandeth  only  when  he  sees  this  Realm,  no 
word-paintings  can  picture  it  for  us. 

Here  are  many  Queens  as  Sitas  in  Glory,  whose  beauty 

is  what  no  one  can  tell  another  who  hath  seen  it 

not. 
Nor  death  nor  delusion  is  for  them  any  more,  in  whose 

heart  He  liveth! 
Here  are  congregations  of  saints  in  bliss,  whose  minds 

and  hearts  are  inebriate  with  God. 

XXXVI 

Higher  than  all  is  the  Realm  of  My  Lord,— 

The  Realm  Absolute!   here  reigns  The  Formless  One! 

Here  His  Glance  is  my  soul's  Beatitude! 

In  this  Realm  are  contained  all  Regions,  and  all  the 

Starry  Heavens  without  end! 
Out  of  the  Formless  Infinite  come  the  forms  and  finite 

beings,  never  hasting,  never  resting. 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL     103 


XXXVII 

They  whom  He  seeth,  on  whom  He  raineth  the  Light 

of  His  Smiles  and  pours  the  showers  of  the  Life 

Eternal, 
They  on  whom  God  bestows  His  Grace  and  Glance, 

and  whom  the  Kind  One  by  one  glance  maketh 

happy,  toil  hard  at  their  craft  as  smiths : 
Chastity   of    thought    and   speech    and    deed   is    their 

Furnace, 
Understanding  is  the  Anvil  on  which  they  ply  their 

craft  through  the  world  of  self  and  woe. 
Divine  Wisdom  serves  as  tools  for  those  toilers  at  life ! 
The  devout  awe  of  the  Presence  of  God,  and  reverence 

serve  them  as  bellows,  and  sufferings  or  vow  of 

poverty  as  fire; 
They  make  the  Heart  of  Love  the  vessel  in  which  melts 

the  Gold  of  Nam  and  thus  they  cast  and  recast 

their  being  in  Love. 
True  is  this  Mint  where  Man  is  cast  in  the  Image  of 

God,  where  Man  is  the  Word  and  the  Word  is 

Man: 
On  such  as  these,  He  showers  His  Grace! 


SLOKA 

BORN  of  the  waters,  we  children  of  great  Earth  learn  our 

lessons  from  the  winds, 
And  we  spin  in  the  arms  of  Day  and  Night;  they  nurse 

us  well. 


io4     SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

Before  the  Great  Judge  will  be  read  out  our  Actions, 

good  or  bad. 
By  our  own  Actions  we  shall  be  nearer  Him  or  farther 

off! 
Those  who  fix  their  Dbyan  on  Nam  shall  pass  above 

the  pain  of  labour. 
Their  task  is  done. 
Bright  are  their  faces ! 
And  in  joy  of  one  liberated  soul  shall  many  more  be, 

through  His  Great  Love,  made  free! 


KEERTAN  SOHILA,  OR  THE  WEDDING  SONG 

I 

SING  ye,  my  comrades,  now  my  wedding  song!! 

In  the  Temple  House  where  saints  sing  His  Nam,  where 

saintly  hearts  glow  all  day  and  night  with  His 

Love, 

Sing  ye,  my  comrades,  now  the  song  of  His  Praise ! 
Sing  the  song  of  my  Creator! 
I  fain  would  be  a  sacrifice  for  the  harmony  divine  that 

giveth  everlasting  Peace! 

My  Lord  careth  for  the  smallest  life, 

The  Bounteous  Giver  meets  the  needs  of  each, 

No  arithmetic  can  count  His  gifts, 

Naught  is  it  that  we  can  render  unto  Him. 

The  Auspicious  Day  has  dawned ! 

The  Hour  is  fixed  for  my  wedding  with  my  Lord! 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL     105 

Come,  comrades !   assemble  and  make  rejoicings, 

Anoint  the  Bride  with  oil  and  pour  on  her  your  blessings ! 

Comrades!   pray,  the  Bride  may  meet  her  Lord! 

This  message  to  every  human  being! 

This  call  is  for  all. 

O  Man!    Remember  Him  who  calls ! 


II 

Thy  Day  too  is  coming  fast ! 

Many    are   the    tabernacles,    many    the   Teachers    and 

many  the  lessons  they  give. 
Remember  there  is  but  one  Guru,  The  Master  of  Masters, 

that  meeteth  man  in  thousand  forms!! 
O  Father!   keep  Thy  Hand  on  that  tabernacle,  make  it 

Thy  own,  where  thy  man  melts  into  the  song  of 

Hail,  Lord  ! — not  because  I  pray,  but  because 

Thou  art  so  great  ! 
As  moments  and  hours  and  days,  each  with  its  own 

distinct  import,  make  but  one  month, 
And  as  months,  each  with  its  own  distinct  effect,  make 

seasons,    each  again   with  its  own  distinction! 

and  the  cause  of  this  all  is  the  Shining  Sun! 
So  is  the  Play  of  the  one  Maker  in  the  Diversity  of 
Forms! 

Ill 

ARTI  x 

The  sky  is  my  Azure  Salver  where  the  Sun  and  Moon, 
Thy  lamps,  illuminate  Thy  songs  of  praise. 

1  The  word  Arti  or  Arati  originally  meant  the  ceremony  of 
waving  lamps  at  night  before  an  idol.    (See  Introduction.) 


io6     SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

The  stars  are  as  pearls  set  in  my  Salver!    O  Light  of 

Lights ! 
My  incense   is  the  fresh  fragrance  blown  on  southern 

winds    from    sandal    forests,    frankincense    and 

cloves  and  a  hundred  spices, 
All  the  herbs  of  the  earth  rise  with  their  flowers  in  Thy 

Temple  and  lay  their  offerings  at  Thy  Feet! 
The  breezes  blow  cool  from  East  and  South  in  Thy 

Temple  high;    they  wave  the  Heavenly  Fans  in 

Thy  Honour! 
Such  is  Thy  Arti! 
O  All-kind    Creator!     The    Breaker   of    the  Wheel    of 

Karma,  the  great  Deliverer! 
Thou  hast  a  million  eyes  yet  no  eyes ! 
Thou  hast  a  million  light-white  feet,  yet  no  feet! 
Thou  hast  a  million  forms !  yet  no  form  is  Thine,  O  Lord ! 
Thy  Presence  sheds  a  thousand  perfumes  and  yet  Thou 

hast  no  incense! 
This  Vision  of  the  Invisible  is  my  utmost  richness!! 

0  Light  of  Lights!    Thou  art  the  light  of  all  Hearts! 
By  Thee  is  kindled  both  Heaven  and  Earth. 

The  Lord  maketh  the  Invisible  Visible  to  man. 
To  wait  for  the  Coming  about  of  Thy  Will  is  our  best 
worship ! 

1  thirst  for  Thy  Lotus  Feet  all  day  and  night. 

I  long  for  Thy  Fragrant  Presence  as  the  bee  longs  for 

the  flowers. 
Grant  me,  O  Lord,  the  Nectar   of   Thy  Grace!    I  am 

athirst  like  the  Sarangl  1 

1  Another  name  for  the  Chatrik,  the  pied  Indian  cuckoo,  who 
only  drinks  when  the  morn  is  in  the  mansion  of  Arcturus,  and 
therefore  always  thirsts. 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL     107 

Pour  in  me  Thy  Heavenly  Drop  and  let  me  repose  in 
Thy  Holy,  Holy  Nam  \ 


IV 

The  human  frame  is  filled  with  love's  desire  and  passions 

of  all  kinds ! 
As  it  comes  and  touches  the  feet  of  the  saint,  all  is 

reduced  to  dust. 
This  colliding  of  the  man  of  sins  with  the  sinless  saint 

is  as  pre-ordained  as  when  two  stars  collide  in 

Heaven, 
It  is  the  good  fortune  of  Man  that  he  meets  his  Lord 

and    Master,    and    his    Dhyan   is    fixed   on    the 

Eternal  Verity, 

Break,  break,  0  Man,  at  the  feet  of  the  Saint! 
To  do  the  behest  of  the  Saint  is  thy  highest  Dbarmal 
Break,  break,  0  Man,  at  the  feet  of  the  Saint! 
Mind    not   the    Saktas,   men    cut   off  from    the   Music 

Divine; 
Mind  not  those  who  are  out  of  tune  with  the  Verity  of 

Beauty,  knowing  not  the  sweet  deliciousness  of 

Nam. 

There  is  the  thorn  of  pride  in  their  heart; 
The  more  they  seem  to  mount,  the  more  is  the  pricking 

of  this  thorn  within  their  heart! 
From  pain  to  greater  pain  they  march,  they  bear  the 

pain  of  Tamo's  Noose. 
Absorbed  are  God's  Men  in  Hari  Nam  l  and  have  laid 

low  at  their  feet  the  pain  of  birth  and  death  and 

fears  of  the  human  lot. 

1  The  name  of  God. 


io8     SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

They  have  realised  the  Immortal  Person  of  God. 

They  have  won   the  Universal  Fame  in  all  the  stellar 

and  astral  systems  of  creation! 
O  Lord!   Thou  art  great  and  greatest. 
Thou  art  our  Prop  and  Stay! 
Thine  are  we  for  ever! 
Make  us  Thine,  O  Lord!  though  we  are  so  poor  and 

weak,  full  of  misery  of  soul  and  woe  of  thousand 

kinds. 

Make  us  Thy  own  slaves  and  let  us  repose  in  Thy  Nam. 
In  Thy  Love  is  the  fruiting  of  our  life. 
In  Thy  Nam  is  our  liberation. 


Thy  slave  longeth  for  the  peace  of  lying  at  the  feet 

of  Thy  saints,  of  being  the  dust  of  their  holy 

feet. 
Make  me,  O  Lord!   the  dust  of  thy  great  temple  and  of 

Thy  saints ! ! 

Look  up,  ye  friends!  the  Dawn  of   Death  is  breaking! 
I  call  ye  out  of  the  love  of  my  heart  for  ye!! 
Awake  and  up!   it  is  high  time  for  ye  to  render  up  this 

life  at  the  feet  of  the  saints ! 
Rise  and   earn  the  Treasure  of  Hari  Nam  from   the 

company  of  the  saints. 
Provide  for  the  life  hereafter, 
Behold,  the  Dawn  of  Death  is  breaking  yonder  and  soon 

shall  ye  be  called ! ! 

God  gave  ye  this  life  for  this  divine  purpose. 
How  day  and  night  steal  it  from  you  drop  by  drop  and 

how  your  heart  is  drained  to  waste! 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL     109 

O  Man !  rise  and  lay  thyself  at  the  feet  of  the  saints  and 

win  thy  life,  ere  it  is  all  lost  in  folly! 
The  Man  of  Divine  Knowledge  swims  across  the  sea  of 

Maya, 
The  world  is  in  the  welter  deep,  it  shall  thus  remain  in 

doubt. 
Rise  thou,  O  brave  disciple!    mind  not  the  world  and 

win  for  thyself  the  Castle  of  Immortality  as  the 

Master  bids ! 

VI 

He  knows  the  unknowable  whom  Thou  wakest  with 
Thy  own  hands  and  makest  to  drink  the  Cup  of 
Thy  delicious  Love!! 


VII 

Fly,  my  soul,  fly!   from  the  dust  and  smoke  of  life  into 

the  Pure! 

For  this  achievement  thou  didst  come. 
Win  thy  Master's  love  through  which  shall  the  Love  of 

God  be  thine. 

He  shall  then  make  thy  heart  His  abode ! 
Disciple,  up!    win  this  prize  of  life,  and  lie  in  sweet 

repose  in  the  arms  of  God,  with  thy  freedom  all 

gained. 

O  Lord,  Thou  knowest  the  inmost  of  our  hearts! 
Thou  fructifiest  our  desires  and  Thou  art  the  Arbiter 

of  our  fates ! 
Sweet  one!   make  me  the  dust  of  Thy  Temple. 


no     SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

0  SISTERS!    IT  IS  THE  MONTH  OF  RAIN 
WADHANS  MAHLA  I.  (Guru  Nanak) 

THE  Peacocks  have  begun  their  dance, 
O  sisters !  it  is  the  Month  of  Rain, 
It  raineth  :  Rhin  Jhin,  Rhin  Jhin  ! 
It  raineth  Joy !  Rhin  Jhin,  Rhin  Jhin  ! 
O  woman!   Great  indeed  the  power  of  your  eyes,  if  you 
have  conquered  the  All-Conqueror! 

0  Beloved!    I  would  fain  be  a  sacrifice  myself,  if  thou 

wouldst  come! 

1  am  sacrificed  for  the  joy  of  Naming  Thee. 

They  say,  I  am  proud!  I  am  proud  because  Thou  art 
mine !  without  Thee  what  am  I  ?  Dust,  dust 
and  ashes! 

O  sisters!   it  is  the  Month  of  Rain! 

It  raineth  indeed  if  He  come! 

It  raineth  :  Rhin  Jhin  !  Rhin  Jhin  ! 

It  raineth  Joy!   Rhin  Jhin  !  Rhin  Jhin  ! 

Joy !   joy  for  them,  they  are  with  Him ! 

My  comrades  are  with  Him,  they  sing  and  live  in  love! 

II 

Vacant  is  my  house,  vacant  my  bed!  He  hath  not  come. 
Now  let  me  break  my  crimson-lacquered  ivory  bangles 

against  the  crimson-lacquered  bed,  and  scatter 

the  pieces  in  the  empty  room. 
In  vain,  these  jewelled  arms;  vain  this  crimson  lacquer, 

when  He  cometh  not. 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL     in 

For,  after  all  this  waiting,  hath  He  not  turned  away 
from  me  ? 

0  woman,  not  in  crimson-lacquered  bangles,  not  in  the 

makers  of  bangles,  and  not  in  decked  arms  and 
lovely  gems  ; — not  in  these  thy  love  shall  be 
known. 

Ill 

Ah!   but  where  shall  I  go  ?  No  way,  no  door  for  me! 
And  yet,  O  mother,  are  there  not  some  who  have  called 

me  beautiful  ? 
But  He  looks  not  at  me, 
He  likes  me  not. 
Burnt,  then,  be  all  my  beauty. 

1  have  had  my  hair  dressed,  the  tresses  were  parted  in 

the  middle,  they  were  woven  and  plaited  down 
on  either  side  with  perfumed  wax,  the  parting 
in  the  middle  was  filled  with  vermilion! 

How  fair  I  looked;  and  beautiful  was  my  smooth  and 
plaited  hair; 

But  He  looked  not  at  me! 

All  was  over  in  a  minute!  I  am  forlorn!  bereft  of  His 
Love. 

IV 

In  my  misery,  my  soul  cries  out  from  its  very  depths! 
I  weep,  and  with  me  weeps  the  world ! 
The  birds  of  the  forest  weep  for  me ! 
The  rivers  and  rocks  weep  with  me! 
But  weepeth  not  for  me  my  own  cruel  self,  that  has 
been  my  ruin! 


ii2     SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

V 

In  a  dream  once  He  came  to  me! 

He  came  and  went  away! 

My  eyes  were  filled  with  tears,  it  was  all  a  dream ! 

Alas,    my  Beloved!   Thou  art  where  I  dare  neither  go, 

nor  send  a  messenger!  Nor  can  I,  even  if  I  would ! 

No  news  comes  from  Thee,  no  message  can  reach 

Thee  from  me! 
Is  not  this  Vacant  Waking  all  one  pain! 

0  sleep!   come  steal  over  me! 

Put  me  to  rest,  perchance  I  may  see  Him  again  in  the 
sleep  of  happy  dreams. 

VI 

If  any  one  came  to  give  me  the  news  of  my  Beloved! 
Ah!  if  any  one  were  to  come  now  to  me! 
Do  you  know  what  I  would  give  Him ! 
Oh!   I  have  learnt  it  with  bitter  experience. 

1  would  give  to  my  Lord  the  whole  of  myself! 
I  would  give  it  clean  away ! 

I  will  keep  nothing  for  myself  even  to  serve  Him  with! 
Having  offered  myself,  I  shall  borrow  the  offerings  from 
Him  and  serve  Him  with  his  own! 

VII 

The    Peacocks    have    begun    their    dance,    Rhin  Jhin, 

Rbin  Jhin,  Rhin  Jhin, 
O  sisters!  it  is  indeed  the  Month  of  Rain! 
It  raineth:   Rhin  Jhin!  Rhin  Jhin! 
It  raineth  Joy !   Rhin  Jhin  !  Rhin  Jhin  ! 
Joy!   joy!  is  the  news! 
Glory !   glory !  is  all  life ! 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL     113 

THE  MOMENT  WHEN  I  SEE  THEE  NOT 

MAHLA  V.  (Guru  Arjan  Dev,  when  quite  young) 

THE  moment  when  I  see  Thee  not,  that  one  moment 

is  a  long  dark  age  to  me; 

When  shall  I  see  Thee  ?  so  many  days  have  passed! 
My  mind  feels  such  a  pang  as  that  of  the  chatrik  that 

cries  for  the  rain-clouds !  • 

Without  seeing  Thee,  O  Beloved  Saint!    neither  my 

thirst  abates  nor  do  I  have  any  rest. 
Fair  God!    Beautiful  is  Thy  Face,  and  how  deep  and 

sweet  is  the  melody  of  Thy  Voice. 
Not  days,  ages  have  now  gone  by;    Thy  Chatrik  has 

had  not  his  Nectar-drop ! 
Blessed  is  that  Land  where  Thou  dwellest! 
I  pant  for  Thee,  0  Divine  Friend! 
Passes  not  my  night,  my  eyes  know  no  sleep. 
When  shall  I  see  Thee,  0  Lord! 

To-day  breaks  the  Morn  of  Fortune  for  me. 

I  find  to-day  my  dear  Lord,  my  Saint! 

All  bliss  is  life,  I  have  found  my  love  within  myself. 

No  separation  now,  no  pining,  I  am  now  for  ever  at 

His  Feet, 
I  am  now  for  ever  in  His  Service ! 


THE  HUSBAND  OF  THE  COUNTLESS  WORLDS 
(Guru  Arjan  Dev) 

THE  Husband  of  the  Countless  Worlds! 

The  Sustainer  of  All-Life! 

That   One,   the  All-Nourisher,   The   All-Protector,    the 

All-Saviour ! 

What  ignorance!   I  cannot  yet  realise  His  Beauty! 
I  know  not  how  to  worship  Him ! 
I  know  not  how  to  pour  my  love  at  His  Feet ! 
I  only  say,  "  Hari,  Han!"  "  Master,  Master!" 
"  Hari,"  "  Guru  "  are  one,  for  me  His  Name  is  Guru 

Ram  Das! 
The  Ocean  of  Peace,  how  it  surges  in  its  limitless  expanse 

and  how  its  billows  wave  along  from  heart  to 

heart,  it  filleth  all ! 

In  me,  he  hears  and  sees  all  what  I  say  and  do. 
I  was  so  ignorant,  I  thought  the  Omnipresent  to  be 

somewhere  outside  me. 
The  Infinite,  how  can  I  bound  by  limitations  of  all 

kinds,  speak  of  Him,  without  mis-saying  Him  ? 
How  can  I  say  what  He  is  like  ? 
O  my  Guru!    speak  to  me  the  ignorant,  what  is  He 

like? 

The  Husband  of  the  countless  Worlds ! 
The  Sustainer  of  All-Life! 
That   One,    the  All-Nourisher,    the   All-Protector,   the 

All-Saviour ! 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL     115 

I  am  just  one,  through  Whose  graces,  countless  millions 
of  men  have  obtained  their  freedom! 

Those  who  have  received  the  inspiration  from  the  lips 
of  Guru  Nanak, 

Those  who  have  met  and  touched  Guru  Nanak, 

The  chains  of  their  bondage  are  cut  for  ever! 

They  are  Free ! 

The  Husband  of  the  countless  Worlds ! 

The  Sustainer  of  All-Life ! 

That  One,  the  All-Nourisher,  the  All-Protector,  the 
All-Saviour! 


GIVE  HIM,  THE  BELOVED,  THE  NEWS  OF  US 

(Guru  Gobind  Singh) 

GIVE  Him,  the  Beloved,  the  news  of  us,  the  disciples! 
Without  Thee,  rich  raiment,  fine  linen,  beds  of  down, — 

what  are  they  but  torment  ? 

The  pleasures  of  these  high  mansions  bite  like  snakes! 
The  lips  of  the  wine-cup  cut  us  like  thin-edged  poniards. 
And  but  a  draught  of  distress,  this  jug  of  wine,  when 

Thou  art  not  with  us ! 
But  the  pallet  of  pale  straw!    It  is  Heaven,  if  Thou  be 

there ! 
Burnt  be  the  palaces,  burnt  and  consumed  the  high 

palace-walls,  if  thou  be  not  there! 


ii6     SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

READINGS  FROM  BAVAN  ANKHRf 

MAHLA  I.  (Guru  Arjan  Dev) 

I 

MY  mother,  my  father,  my  owner  is  my  Lord. 

The  breaker  of  the  spell  of  ignorance,  my  friend,  my 

kinsman  first  and  last  is  my  dear  Master. 
He  is  the  bestower  of  Nam  on  me, 
He  has  given  me  the  gift  of  Eternal  Repose. 
He  incarnates  for  me,  the  Heaven  of  Peace. 
He  is  the  Paras,  His  touch  is  alchemical. 
The  Lord  is  my  holy  place  of  pilgrimage. 
He  is  the  fountain  of  the  Nectar  of  Life; 
All  knowledge  is  mine,  when  I  plunge  into  Him  and 

bathe  myself  in  His  Purity. 

The  Lord  is  my  maker,  He  makes  me  blessed  and  sinless. 
It  is  He  who  lifts  up  the  fallen,  embraces  the  despised. 
He  is  the  beginning,  He  is  the  eternal  ages, 
He  is  the  Word,  the  Nam  that  saves  man. 
O  God!    unite  me  with  my  Lord  and  Teacher,  bestow 

Thy  Grace  on  me. 
Hush!   Silence!  Bow  to  him. 
He  is  the  God  in  man,  aye,  He  is  the  God  in  God,  the 

Eternal  Essence  of  things ! 

II 

Holy  is  the  dust  of  the  lotus  feet  of  Thy  saints ! 

Great  is  Thy  Glory,  Thou  makest  such  minds  as  these ! 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL     117 

I  wish  for  no  property,  nor  do  I  desire  Heaven, 

I  wish  I  were  but  the  dust  of  their  feet ! 

Pour  in  me  more  and  more,  that  Heavenly  Love,  that 

worships  Thy  saints, 
I  wish  I  were  the  dust  of  their  feet ! ! 
In  the  love  of  One,  I  am  free. 
The  saint  is  the  Torch  of  Nam,  he  is  both  man  and  God. 


Ill 

O  disciple,  bathe  thy  mind  in  the  colours  of  His  Glory, 

fill  thy  heart  with  His  Greatness, 
And  pour  out  His  Nam,  from  the  depths  of  thy  soul; 

and  let  this  gushing  fountain  lave  thy  being  in 

sweet  deliciousness  of  His  Love. 
Recite  His  Nam  that  the  chords  of  thy  being  may 

vibrate  with  the  music  of  love. 
In  realms  beyond  death,  thus  shalt  thou  be  an  Honoured 

Guest. 
Thine  shall  be  the  life  wedded  to  love  in  High  Mansions 

of  Thy  Lord,  a  life  everlasting  lifted  off  for  ever 

from  the  wheel  of  Birth  and  Death. 
Such  prosperous  life  of  the  spirit  is  theirs,  whom  He 

Himself  makes  so  fortunate. 


IV 

They  come  and  they  go, 

But  they  have  come  indeed  whose  lips  are  closed  with 

the  Honey  of  His  Praise. 
Full-fruited  is  their  life!! 

L 


ii8     SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

They  have  come  indeed  who  live  in  the  Saint  and  there 
in  his  being  drink  deep  the  Glory  Divine,  their 
souls  all  dyed  in  joys  of  Love. 

They  have  come  indeed  who  have  blended  their  souls 
with  Nam  through  the  Divine  Grace. 

No  more  coming  and  going,  for  them;  they  live  for 
ever  in  the  Divine  Presence,  their  eyes  looking 
into  His,  His  Eyes  looking  into  theirs,  their  souls 
enwrapped  in  His,  and  His  in  theirs. 


V 

He  is  very  beautiful, 

He  comes  of  a  noble  race, 

Great  is  his  mind  and  power, 

He  is  a  rich  man. 

But  ah!  he  is  dead,  for  he  hath  not  the  love  of  the  Lord. 


VI 

Transparent  grows  my  soul  in  converse  with  my  Beau- 
tiful Saint. 

All  distress  of  thought  is  over  for  me,  for  my  eyes  look 
straight  at  the  Beloved  and  see  but  One. 

To-day  the  Lotus  Feet  of  the  Blessed  One  touch  me!! 

Beautiful  is  this  day,  all  was  for  this;  my  life  rolled  for 
ages  and  wandered  for  this. 

It  is  at  His  own  will  and  pleasure  that  He  admits  me 
into  His  presence, 

When  I  see  Him,  all  thinking  is  lost  and  thoughts  of 
"  thee  "  and  "  me  "  drop  away  from  me. 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL     119 


VII 

O  Beloved! 

We  are  as  Thy  little  children, 

Make  us  the  servants  of  Thy  servants,  the  slaves  of 
Thy  slaves,  who  are  the  essence  of  Thy  Creation, 
the  life  of  Thy  Life. 

We  children  pray,  that  we  may  be  able  to  give  up  all 
ignorance  of  self  and  walk  humble  on  the  path 
of  life. 

With  the  help  of  Thy  saints,  we,  even  we,  the  illusion- 
toys  of  the  Shadow,  attain  to  the  Highest  Verity. 

VIII 

Fetch  that  elixir  then! 

By  which  all  distress  may  end  forthwith, 

When  the  elixir  of  Nam  invigorates  the  sources  of  Life 

in  me,  what  is  death,  decay,  disease  or  distress  ? 
Concealed  within  lies   this  Ambrosia   at  the  heart  of 

human  life,  but  the  man  knoweth  not  till  the 

Guru  opens  the  door  of  the  heart; 
When  this  is  done,  all  is  done. 

IX 

Hate  no  one,  bear  enmity  to  none,  in  each  and  every 

one  is  He. 
That   all-permeating   Love   deluges   lands   and   waters 

with  Himself, 

Few  are  those  who  favoured  by  the  Guru  see  Him  thus ! 
They  who  are  inspired  direct  from  the  lips  of  the  Guru, 


120     SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

they  who  have  lighted   their  hearts  from   His 

burning  heart,  know  this  truth: — 
Those  hearts  are  clean,  those  minds  mount  high,  and 

no  differences  divide  them  from  the  Universe. 
Their  Beautiful  Beloved  is  independent  of  flesh-colours 

and  flesh-features ;   they  invoke  in  us  His  Great 

Love. 

X 

Peace  is  mine,  when  selfishness  drops  from  me, 

How  can  I  be  free  of  disease  when  selfishness,  the  root 

of  all  disease,  feeds  deep  on  me. 
Now  that  I  see  my  Love,  myself  is  gone,  my  love  is  all. 

XI 

If  it  be  Thy  wish,  O  Lord !   even  stones  shall  swim  over 

the  world-waters, 
A  traitor  to  thy  salt !   I  ? 
A  runaway  from  thee !   I  ? 
Thou  who  gavest  me  birth,  bestowed  on  me  the  shrine 

of  this  human  body,  and   added   unto   me  the 

thousand  joys  of  life,  my  heart  is  empty  of  all 

love  for  Thee. 
It  runneth  in  all  directions  to  gather  the  world-sands, 

and  filleth  itself  with  dust  of  nothing; 
A  reviler!  a  thief!  a  traitor!   I  ? 
O  my  Merciful  Love,  Thou  canst  save  me  still  with  a 

Glance,  but  one  Glance  of  Thine! 
Thus  my  all-bad  will  change  into  all-good,  in  the  light 

of  Thy  Smile, 
If  it  be  Thy  wish,  O  Lord !   even  the  stones  shall  swim 

over  the  world-waters. 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL     121 

XII 

The  Transcendental  Beauty ! 

O  Beloved!   above  all  thought  and  feeling! 

Thou  holdest  in  Thy  Hand  the  Inscrutable  Pen,  and  how 
it  writes  on  our  foreheads ! 

"Our  foreheads  are  Thy  beautiful  letters  of  destiny! 

Who  can  praise  Thee  ?  for  lips  get  sealed  with  honey, 
and  eyes  are  closed  by  Thy  Beauty,  and  the 
human  soul  is  lost  in  looking  at  Thee. 

May  I  be  an  eternal  sacrifice  at  the  altar  of  Thy  Fame. 


FROM  JAYTESWARY  DI-VAR 
XIII 

A  MAN  ! 

He  lived  in  a  broken-down  hut, 

He  was  clad  in  rags ; 

He  had  no  caste,  no  rank  in  this  world; 

No  one  so  poor  as  to  notice  him  as  he  walked  along  the 

roads  of  life, 

All  alone,  no  friend  he  had,  no  support; 
He  had  no  wealth,  nor  beauty  of  features, 
He  had  no  blood-relations, 
But  he  was  the  King  of  Creation, 
His  mind  was  immersed  in  Nam, 
From  him  did  drip  the  Honey  of  Love ! ! 
If  one  gets  the  gift  of  the  dust  of  the  feet  of  such  as  he, 

it  is  the  sign  of  divine  grace,  for  anointed  with 

this  dust,  a  man  becomes  a  man. 


122     SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

XIV 

Those  who  love  Him,  love  nothing  else, 

To  them  nothing  else  is  at  all  sweet ! 

They  have  seen  all  other  things  are  sickening, 

This  Love  Divine  has  broken  the  spell  of  their  ignorance 

and  they  have  obtained  deliverance  from  pain. 
He  abideth  for  ever,  all  else  perisheth! 
His   Sacred  Feet  imprint  gentle  soft  touches  on  their 

heart  and  He  is  in  them  as  the  dye  in  the  dyestuff . 

XV 

As  water  is  to  the  fish, 

As  cloud-drops  to  the  chatrik, 

As  lotus-scent  to  the  bee,  that  gives  itself  to  be  shut 

within  its  petalous  embrace, 
Even  a  cobra  that  is  near  lifts  its  hood  in  love  and  song; 

listening  forgets  its  nature  and  stands  venomless 

and  harmless,  a  comrade  of  man; 
So  is  God  for  the  Saints;   seeing  Him,  they  are  to  Him 

and  He  is  to  them  what  no  two  things  can  be 

to  each  other. 

XVI 

Wait,  O  woman  of  love  and  longing ! 

It  is  He  who  fulfils  the  longings  of  Love! 

Thy  waitings  shall  bear  fruit; 

Find  Him,  and  sorrow  not  nor  pine, 

One  glance  of  His  shall  close  the  lips  of  all  thy  sweet 

complaints. 
Fill  thy  heart  with  the  gladness  of  thy  waitings  for  Him. 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL     123 

From  His  Shining  Silver  Feet  the  life-pollen  falls,  this 

rain  of  pollen  from  His  Feet  makes  us  holy. 
He  is  for  ever  with  us. 

XVII 

A  thousand  times  I  would  die  for  those,  who  listen  to 

His  story,  who  are  informed  of  Him; 
They  are  honourable  men  who  lay  their  foreheads  on 

the  dust  before  my  Lord  in  total  self-surrender! 
Those  hands  are  beautiful,  they  look  to  me  so  bright 

and  fair,  the  hands  that  write  His  praise  without 

end. 
Those  feet  are  holy  that  go  the  way  which  goes  to  my 

Lord. 
All  calamity  is  over  in  company  of  the  saints ! 

XVIII 

0  Kind  One!   now  meet  me! 

1  fall  at  Thy  door,  0  Kind  King  of  the  poor!  protect  me! 
Long  have  I  wandered,  far  and  wide,  and  I  am  now 

hungry   and  starved,   weak  and  lean,   old  and 

ragged. 

They  say  Thy  vow  of  Love  is  to  lift  up  the  fallen; 
They  say  Thou  art  as  mother-cow  to  her  calf; 
Infinite  kindness  of  Thine  has  sworn,  they  say,  to  save 

man! 
O  Essence!    O  Verity!    listen  to  me,  I  have  none  but 

Thee! 

O  Kind  One,  now  meet  me! 
Now  bend  low!   now  bend  low!   and  take  me  up  in  Thy 

Arms, 
O  Kind  One,  come  and  now  meet  me! 


124     SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

FROM  ANAND  SAHIB 

XIX 
PEACE! 

My  Mother!   I  have  found  Peace  in  my  Lord! 
He  gives  it  to  me; 
Spontaneous  music  of  triumph  of  soul  and  joy  of  life 

swells  up  in  me; 

In  the  temple  of  my  heart  is  the  concourse  of  celestials ! 
O  celestials!    Raise  in  me  songs  of  the  Praise  of  Him, 

Who  having  made  in  me  His  Dwelling,  makes 

me  a  palace  of  music  and  joy. 
Peace  I  have  found  in  my  Lord ! 
Now  live  with  thy  God, 

Be  His,  put  all  sorrow  and  pain  and  thought  aside, 
Mind  no  business  of  thy  own,  thy  concerns  now  are  His ! 
Leave  all  else,  but  leave  not  Him  who  is  the  All-doer, 
Now  live  with  thy  Love ! 
O  King  of  my  heart!   What  is  there  that  is  not  in  Thy 

Stores  ? 

All  is  there,  but  the  greatest  is  the  song  of  Thy  Praise! 
The  song  of  Thy  Praise  is  bestowed  on  them  whom 

Thou  choosest! 
In  their  heart  dwells  Nam  and  their  flesh  resonates 

with  the  music  divine. 
Give  up  all  else,  let  go  these  chains  that  bind  and 

enslave ; 

Build  thyself  on  the  rock  of  Nam, 
Make  Nam  thy  Bread  of  Life! 
Eat  of  this  Bread  that  kills  all  kinds  of  hungers, 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL     125 

Behold,  thy  desires  stand  before  thee  as  trees  laden  with 

fruits. 
Honoured  is  he  of  the  Lord  who  bears  so  much  love! 

0  Lovers  of  the  Good !  give  your  life  to  Nam, 

All  blessed  is  that  home  where  the  stream  of  this  divine 
music  flows,  they  have  won  self,  and  death  lies 
low. 

XX 

My  mind  is  happy,  my  heart  dances  with  joy, 

1  hear  my  Lord  will  soon  be  here. 

O  my  comrades!   sing  together,  my  Lord  cometh! 
To-day  my  house  is  the  holy  temple  of  the  Beloved, 

to-day  are  we  not  all  sacred  ? 
Sing  ye,  my  comrades,  the  everlasting  songs  of  love, 

let  no  sorrow  rule  within ! 
This  day  is  the  day  of  fruits  of  life! 
To-day  we  see  our  Husband  come,  let  us  make  to-day 

full  feast  with  Him,  it  is  all  joy ! 
He  cometh  of  Himself  to  us, 
Say  not  now  why  I  came  into  the  world, 
Say  not  now  what  I  have  done  here. 
Say  not  now,  pray,  that  I  love  Him  not. 
By  His  kindness,  my  past  is  vindicated  now, 
My  body  is  sacred  now,  for  it  has  met  its  Owner, 
My  mind  is  pure,  for  there  the  Light  shines  from  His 

Lotus  Feet. 

XXI 

O  eyes!  my  eyes!  the  Lord  has  placed  his  lights  in 
you  ;  see  no  one  else  now,  for  these  eyes  have 
seen  the  Beloved. 

O  eyes!    my   eyes!    this  great  world  that  lies  before 


126     SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

your  gaze  is  the  flesh  of  my  Beloved,  all  this  is 

the  beauteous  form  of  my  Beloved. 
I  knew  it  not,  ere  this;    I  know  it  now  through  His 

Grace;   He  is  everywhere,  there  is  none  else. 
O  eyes !  my  eyes ! 
These  eyes  were  blind,  this  celestial  vision  has  been 

given  me  by  my  dear  Lord. 
See  this  vision  now  and  nothing  else!! 

XXII 

My  sweet,  sweet  God  has  concealed  in  a  cave  within 

this  human  frame,  a  mystic  violin  whose  chords 

break   forth  into  an  unheard-of   music  as  His 

Breath  passes  through  man. 
The  music  of  life  comes  streaming  through  the  nine  gates 

of  the  body,  the  tenth  portal  being  all  closed! 
O  ears!  my  ears!    ye  are  sent  here  to  hear  this  sacred 

Song  of  Truth  by  whose  cadence   the  dried-up 

heart  is  once  more  made  green  and  speech  is 

lost  in  joy! 
Some  there  are,  who  sit  at  the  door  of  the  temple,  and 

wait  till  some  one  opens  the  tenth  portal. 
When  this  door  of  life  opens,  a  million  instruments  of 

music  strike  the  wedding-song  of  man. 
This  song  is  only  heard  in  the  heart  of  Truth,  this  music 

is  of  the  Real. 

0  ears!   my  ears!   ye  are  sent  here  to  hear  this  sacred 

Song  of  Truth. 

1  fell  at  the  feet  of  my  Lord  and  Master  and  I  have 

heard  now  this  Hidden  Song. 
I  vibrate  with  the  wedding-joys ! 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL     127 


FROM  RAHRAS 

XXIII 

HARD!    very  hard  indeed  is  the  life  of  Love  and  Nam 

(because  of  its  delicacy  and  tenderness,  because 

of  its  soft  aromas,  and  its  still  softer  hues). 
In  it  I  live,  and  out  of  it  I  die. 
I  feel  hungry  of  Thee,  when  Thou  fillest  me  with  Thy 

Bread  of  Love,  all  my  woes  depart. 
Do  what  we  may,  we  cannot  spare  even  a  sesame  seed 

out  of  His  Infinite  Nature, 
He  grows  not  more  if  we  sing  His  Praise,  nor  doth  He 

grow  less  if  we  sing  Him  not. 
One  thing  I  know,  He  dies  not,  nor  pain  nor  sorrow  is 

in  Him. 
He  is  my  true  Husband,  my  Mother!   how  can  I  forget 

Him? 
He  gives  and  asks  not,  He  goes  on  giving  to  all,  this  is 

His  one  great  sign, 
Nor  was  one,  nor  can  there  be  one  like  Him,  His  gifts 

wear  on  them  His  likeness. 
The  days  and  nights  are  His,  one  who  forgets  Him  has 

no  noble  blood  in  his  veins. 
Without  Him  the  lot  of  man  is  that  of  a  widow. 


XXIV 

Look!  the  shades  of  evening  spread,  their  wings  half 
crimsoned  in  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun. 


128      SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

The    soft    slow  zephyrs    blow,   carrying    shadows    to 

and  fro. 
O  man!   why  art  thou  so  crestfallen  in  the  thought  of 

thy  bread,  why  this  "  What  shall  I  eat  ?  "  and 

"  Whence  ?  " 
Behold,  the  flocks  of  cranes  fly  in  mid-sky  and  they 

have  their  little  ones  safe-buried  in  sands  behind, 

and  they  have  no  such  fear;    they  ask  not  who 

shall  provide  for  their  little  ones! 
These  birds  perhaps  know  the  secret,  they  only  look 

up  and  their  eyes  see  Him  that  helps, 
They  are  flying  free,  singing  His  Nam. 
O  man!    why   art   thou  so  crestfallen?    why  dissipate 

thyself  in  vain  desires  ? 
His  stores  have  plenty  for  all, 
The  little   lives  He  has  brought  forth  in  the  crevices 

of  stones,  there  is  bread  for  them  stored  even 

before  their  birth. 
My  friend!    thy  distress  is  not  the  want  of  bread;    thy 

misery  is  thou  hast  not  yet  seen  the   Reality 

face  to  face. 

Man  attains  the  highest  by  the  Divine  Grace, 
By  the   glance   of   the   Guru    towards   us,   we  rise   as 

green  living  trees  out  of  the  dead  and  decayed 

wood. 

Who  cares  for  us,  my  friend  ?    father,  mother,  sweet- 
hearts all  are  for  themselves  and  no  one  needs 

to  care  for  another. 
Be   not   crestfallen,   be    not  so  dejected  and  sad,   for 

above  us  all  is  one  sweet   Beloved  Who   careth 

for  all. 
All  things  are  held  m  the  palms  of  His  Hands, 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL     129 

O  my  Sweet  Beautiful  One!  die  I  may  a  thousand 
times  and  come  again  a  thousand  times  more  to 
be  a  sacrifice,  but  there  is  no  end  to  Thy  delight- 
fulness;  the  ever  new,  the  ever  fresh  glory!! 


XXV 

This  little  shrine  of  human  body! 

This  great  opportunity  of  Life! 

The  object  is  to  meet  the  Beloved,  thy  Maker! 

Nothing  else  shall  stand  by  thee,  nothing  else  availeth! 

Get  up;  go  and  meet  the  Saints  and  live  with  them  in 
their  service  as  a  torch  divine  of  Nam. 

Death  above  thy  head,  before  thee  is  the  Great  World- 
sea  of  thought  and  desire! 

Thy  hours  pass  in  transient  self-spending  pleasures  of 
Maya. 

No  training  in  arts  of  soul-culture  nor  recitation  of 
Nam,  nor  hast  thou  sought  the  kingdom  within 
thyself,  nor  hast  thou  followed  the  science  of 
obedience  to  His  Will,  nor  hast  thou  served  the 
Saints. 

Shame!   O  shame!  Thou  hast  not  yet  seen  thy  God. 

O  Lord !  so  low  in  scale  of  life,  so  mean  my  performance ! 

Oh!  For  the  Honour  of  Thy  Door  of  Mercy  protect  me, 
such  as  even  me,  my  Lord ! 


130     SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

FROM  BARAN  MAHAN 

The  Seasons 
XXVI 

FLUNG  away  are  we  from  Thee,  O  Beloved,  of  our  own 
freedom  and  by  our  own  doings ! 

Now  it  is  all  over,  I  have  seen  all  the  ten  directions  and 
all  the  four  continents,  I  find  no  home,  no  rest; 
I  return  to  Thee,  now  it  is  evening  of  my  life. 

Through  Thy  saving  Love,  restore  me  once  again  to 
Thyself! 

What  am  I  without  You  ? 

As  useless  as  a  cow  without  milk,  as  a  branch  cut  off 
from  the  juice  of  the  tree, 

Burnt  be  the  town  and  the  city  where  cometh  not  my 
Beloved! 

If  the  Beloved  is  not  by  me, 

All  friends  and  blood-relations  are  as  death, 

All  my  fine  decoration  of  self,  the  supremacy  of  orna- 
ments and  robes,  of  the  betelnut  dye  on  my  lips, 
the  pride  of  my  beautiful  flesh,  the  tints  of  love 
and  longings,  the  deliciousness  of  emotions — 
all,  all  is  sour  and  unripe! 

O  God !  Bestow  on  me  Thy  Nam,  unite  me  with  Thy- 
self! 

O  Beloved!   Thy  Palaces  never  pass  away! 

The  evening  falls,  my  Beloved!  I  fall  at  Thy  Door 
imploring  protection ! ! 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL     131 


XXVII 

My  soul  is  on  fire! 

The  Spring  is  in  its  half-opened  buds ! 

How  great  the  joy  if  my  lips  ope  and  say  His  Ndm\ 

O  Saints!   put  on  my  tongue  that  Honey  which  makes 

so  life-giving  the  repetition  of  His  Nam\ 
The  Spring  indeed  for  those  who  have  met  Him ! 
In  vain  the  mother  gives  birth  to  that  life  which  passes 

outside  the  maddening  circle  of  His  Arms ! 
Without  the  cooling  touch  of  His  Love,  this  life  is  all 

fire,  all  pain  to  me! 

He  Who  pervades  all  lands  and  waters, 
He   by   Whose   Beauty  all  world-forests  are  beautiful, 

aye,   even  the  little  grass  blades  as  great  and 

beautiful, 
How  great  is  my  distress  when  His  Love  springeth  not 

in  me. 

The  Spring  is  now  in  youth,  full-moon  are  its  blossoms, 
Now  pray !  how  can  I  keep  quiet,  how  can  I  be  patient, 

I,  I  who  have  wounds  of  Love  within ! 
Shame!    Shame!    I  forget  my  Beloved  and  pass  my 

days,  desire-pulled  in  the  deserts  of  Maya! 
Ah!  this  way  of  ruin  have  thousands  gone  and  perished! 
All  is  death  and  ruin  but  His  Great  Love,  His  Nam. 
Pure  are  the  hearts  of  those  who  are  at  the  Feet  of  my 

Beloved! 
Meet  me,  O  Beloved !  Pray  come  to  me  now! 


132     SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 


XXVIII 

Spring  is  gone  with  all  its  flowers! 

Hot  indeed  is  the  Tropical  Summer! 

It  is   a    burning  waste    for   those  who    are   not   with 

God! 
O  Soul!    why  art  thou  running  to  and  fro  aimlessly, 

seeking  favours  of  men  and  women  and  things, 

so  hard-pressed,  so  heat-oppressed! 
Why  meetest  thou  not  the  living  Man  whose  life  is  the 

life  of  the  whole  creation ! 
Behold!  The  night  passeth !  The  Dawn  of  Death  breaks 

yonder! 
O  Soul!    why  sorrowest  thou  now,  when  the  night  of 

love,  the  time  and  opportunity  thou  hadst,  is 

recklessly  wasted  ? 
Such  is  her  fate,  she  saw  not  her  Husband,  it  was  so 

writ! 
They  who  have  met  here  their  Saint  attain  freedom 

there. 
O   Beloved!    This   much   favour   I   ask,    that    I   may 

have    thirst    enough    to    drink    deep    of    Thy 

Beauty! 
O  Lord!   There  is  no  other  who  would  look  at  me  with 

so  much  favour! 
But  not  at  all  is  the  Summer  hot,  nay  it  is  genial  warmth, 

to  those  whose  hearts  are  pure  with  the  touch  of 

His  Lotus  Feet, 
The   clouds   come,   the  lightning  flashes   and   it   rains 

nectar-rain  within  their  souls ! 
Drenched  are  they  and  fine  glows  the  colour  of  their 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL     133 

body  and  soul  dyed  with  the  dye  of  youth  and 

life  of  the  Beloved] 
In  the  light  of  this   Beauty,  in  the  presence  of  this 

Glancing  Reality,  all  else  is  a  lie,  all  other  dyes 

are  fading  shadows  of  Illusion. 
Ah!    Beautiful  is  the  waiting  for  the  Pearl-drop  of  this 

Nectar  from  Heaven!    Beautiful  are  the  Brides! 

Beautiful   are   their  cups   of  joy!    Beautiful  is 

the  Saint,  mingling  with  whose  life  their  life,  the 

Disciples  drink  so  deep! 
Their  eyes   are  lighted  with  celestial  light;    from  the 

humble  grass  blades  to  the  mighty  forests,  all 

things  are  deluged  with  the  Beloved. 
All  is  fresh  with  the  life  of  the  All-Powerful  Creator, 

the  Infinite  Man. 
I  long  to  meet  my  Love ! 
Ah !   But  no  transitory  dreamy  sentiments  can  take  me 

to  Him ! 

My  whole  self,  whatever  it  be,  assigns  me  my  place. 
Content  where  I  am, — O  Lord,  look  at  me,  bend  on 

me  a  kind  glance. 
I  wish  to  be  the  slave  of  those  who  have  won  their  seats 

on  high. 

O  Love!   Just  look  at  me! 
Fair  is  the  Month  of  Rain,  delicious !   to  those  who  have 

the  Garland  of  His  Arms  entwined  round  their 

necks! 

XXIX 

It  is  winter  now! 

As  he  sows,  so  the  fanner  reaps,  this  life  is  the  soil  of 
God! 

M 


134     SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

The  black  have  turned  grey,  the  hands  of  man  now 
shake,  the  flesh  creeps  on  the  bones  and  con- 
vulsive fits  overcome  the  flesh.  The  messengers 
of  death  have  put  their  noose  on  his  neck  and 
they  march  him  on  whither  he  knows  not,  nor 
do  the  messengers  of  death  tell  him  this.  Those 
who  were  his  can  do  naught  for  him,  so  they  have 
also  deserted  him  out  of  helplessness. 

In  vain  did  he  pride  over  his  all,  all  is  lost  in  a  moment. 
Such  is  the  human  lot ! 

But  never,  O  never,  has  the  winter  a  sting  for  those 
who  have  met  the  Master!  The  Guru  protects 
them  to  the  very  last. 

All  things  freeze  in  winter,  but  the  feelings  of  love  break 
open  the  crust  of  earth ! 

Ah !  Love  flows  in  a  stream ! 

Some  one  come!  and  take  me  to  the  Beloved!  the 
Saints  aid  one  on  the  path  of  love,  Saints  and  no 
one  else. 

Come,  O  my  mother!  Take  me  to  the  Saints!  There 
is  no  other  way,  my  mother,  no  other  way. 

There  is  no  other  place,  my  mother,  no  other  place, 
where  I  can  find  rest. 

Nothing  else  can  please  me,  nothing  else  can  make  me 
happy,  restore  me  to  the  arms  of  my  Beloved. 

They  who  have  drunk  of  this  cup,  are  informed  of  His 
Bliss  that  never  breaks!  Once  with  Him,  for 
ever  with  Him! 

The  Bride  is  with  the  Bridegroom!  where  is  winter? 
where  is  Death  ? 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL     135 


XXX 

For  our   distress  we  blame   no  one!    No   one  but  we 

ourselves  make  our  lot,  be  it  good  or  bad. 
We  invite  all  distress  and  disease  to  ourselves  when  we 

turn  our  backs  on  God. 

We  suffer  the  pangs  of  separation,  life  after  life. 
All  that  is,  is  good!  All  this  Evanescent  May  ^-splendour 

is  delicious ! 

But  bitter  indeed  is  the  cup,  when  He  is  not  amidst  us. 
O  Deliverer  of  the  Bound! 
O  Saviour  of  the  Fallen! 
Grant  me  the  society  of  Saints! 
All  life  for  a  Saint! 
When  once  again  I  thus  shall  meet  my  Lord,  the  misery 

of  ages  will  be  left  behind  as  a  mortal  tale. 


XXXI 

Those  who  live  with  the  Beloved  never  perish. 

I  see  them  standing  there  in  eternity,  how  bright  are 

these  figures  of  Love! 
The  garlands  of  rubies  and  diamonds  and  pearls  sparkle 

on  their  necks, 

I  long  for  the  life-dust  of  their  feet! 
They  are  standing  there  doing  the  service  of  Love! 
The  garlands  of  rubies  and  diamonds  and  pearls  sparkle 

on  their  necks. 


136     SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

FROM  ASA-DI-VAR 

MAHLA  I.  (Guru  Nanak) 

XXXII 

THY  stellar  and  astral  systems  stand;  they  are  Truth. 

All  Forms  of  Thy  Creation  are;  that  is  Truth. 

All  Thy  Doings  are  Truth,  and  all  Thy  Thinkings. 

Thy  Will  is  Truth  and  Thy  Presence. 

Thy  Sayings  are  Truth  and  Thy  Bidding. 

Thy  Blessing  is  Truth  and  Truth  is  Thy  Sign. 

Thou  art  Truth,  and  Thy  Power,  and  Thy  Life, 

And  Thy  Praise  is  Truth. 

Thy  Emanations  are  Truth. 

Thy    Miracle  of    Creation  is    Truth   and   Thy   Art   of 

Creating. 

They  are  true  who  love  the  Truth, 
All  else  is  flesh  of  change  like  fragile  glass. 

XXXIII 

Wonder  of  all  wonders!  So  wondrous  the  sound  itself 
and  then  the  sound  with  meaning! ! 

Wonder  of  wonders!  so  wondrous  this  life  and  then  this 
life  with  all  its  mystery!! 

So  wondrous  the  forms  of  life,  and  then  the  forms  of 
life  with  all  their  feelings ! ! 

So  common  teems  all  life  before  us,  yet  how  secret ! 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL     137 

How  wondrous  these  waters,  these  winds,  these  fires 

that  play!! 
How  wondrous  the  earth  and  the  dust  and  the  minerals 

in  it!! 

All  kingdoms  of  life  how  various ! ! 
Wonder  of  wonders!    so  wondrous!!    The  men  have 

taste  in  their  mouths,   they  have  likings  and 

disli  kings ! ! 
How  wondrously  we  meet  and  part!!    We  feel  hunger 

and  we  have  the  feeling  of  satiation!! 
How  wondrously  lips  pipe  His  Praise!! 
Wonder  is  the  path  we  tread  and  the  wilderness  with 

no  path!! 

Wonder  is  what  is  near  and  what  is  far!! 
A  wonder  is  the  man  that,  filled  with  wonder,  sees  his 

Maker  in  himself  and  everywhere. 
And  how  wondrous  is  the  repose  that  sees  the  Glory 

even  above  the  realms  of  wonder: 
The  knowledge  above  all  knowledge,  the  knowing  above 

the    knowing    of    wonder,    this    worship,    this 

illumination  is  the  perfection  of  human  destiny. 


XXXIV 

It  is  the  Miracle  of  His  Own  Presence! 

We  see  but  the  products  of  His  Art  of  Creation! 

We  hear  but  the  music  of  His  Art  of  Creation! 

The  Awe  of  His   Wondrous  Presence,  the  Truth,  the 

Peace  are  all  elements  of  His  Divine  Art. 
Above  the  skies  is  the  display  of  His  Art, 
And  below  is  the  same. 


138     SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

All  thoughts  of  men,  their  books  and  their  process  of 
thinking,  aye,  all  inspiration  is  of  His  Art. 

The  arts  of  eating,  drinking,  wearing  and  the  art  of 
loving  are  of  His  Art ! 

The  countless  colour-glories,  the  created  beings,  all 
goodness  and  virtue,  all  vice  and  wickedness, 
all  pride  and  glow,  all  humility  and  pallor, 
move  with  the  all-teeming  life  on  His  Canvas. 

Everything  is  His  Expression. 

O  Lord!   this  is  all  Thy  Art  Divine. 

Above  all  and  in  all  art  Thou,  the  Immaculate,  the 
Supreme  Immanence. 

He  who  lives  in  Thee  sees  but  One. 


XXXV 

He  read  and  read  and  heaped  carts  on  carts  of  the  books 

of  learning: 
He  read  and  read,  and  carts  behind  carts  of  the  books 

of  learning  moved  behind  him  as  he  went: 
He  read  and  read,  and  ships  on  ships  of  the  books  of 

learning  sailed: 
He  read  and  read,  and  heaps  on  heaps  of  the  books  of 

learning  were  buried  in  dust : 

He  read  and  read,  years  on  years  and  centuries  sped: 
Let  him  read,  let  him  acquire  more  if  he  likes: 
Ah,  but  not  this  way,  not  this  way ! 
The  man  needs  but  One  Thing, 
All  else  is  vanity,  dust,  dust  and  ashes. 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL    139 

FROM  GURU  NANAK  (when  a  boy). 

XXXVI 

NOT  this,  not  this  is  the  Sacred  Thread,  O  Brahman ! 
If  divine  forgiveness  is  in  me,  it  will  provide  the  cotton 

for  my  Sacred  Thread : 
And  if  I  am  at  peace  with  the  Will  of  my  Maker,  that 

will  give  me  the  Sacred-spun : 
If  I  am  in  my  centre  of  life  and  if  I  am  true  to  the  Truth 

in  me,  the  fibres  of  my  Sacred  Thread  are  twisted 

well  enough  indeed! 
My  Brahman!    put  on  me  the  Sacred  Thread  such  as 

this,  if  you  can: 

My  Sacred  Thread  shall  break  not,  nor  shall  ever  be  soiled. 
Fires  can  burn  it  not,  nor  waters  sink  it  down! 
Blessed  are  they  who  wear  my  Sacred  Thread. 


SELECTIONS    FROM    HYMNS    OF 
GURU  GRANTHA  SAHIB 

SRI  RAG  MAHLA  V.  (Guru  Arjan  Dev) 

I 

THE  SWEETEST 

(O 

BY  self-surrender,  He  is  now  mine. 
I  have  met  the  Man,  the  true  Master! 
I  know  of  none  else  so  great ! 
He  is  now  mine! 

The  Sweetest! 


140    SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

<*) 

He  is  Fascination, 

Dearer  than  my  own  father  and  mother  to  me, 

I  know  of  no  affection  (nor  sister's,  nor  brother's,  nor 

friend's)  so  intense,  ever  growing. 
He  is  now  mine! 

The  Sweetest! 

(3) 

At  His  bidding,  it  raineth  here; 

It  raineth  on  the  fields  of  life! 

It  raineth  on  the  fields  below! 

My  hand  is  on  the  plough  (the  Truth),  the  seeds  are  in 

my  hands : 

The  seeds  of  Nam  I  sow; 
My  eyes  are  raised  and  look  above;  then  look  they  down 

and  I  sow. 

The  crops  grow,  the  crops  grow! 
He  is  now  mine! 

The  Sweetest! 

(4) 
I  have  seen  Him  now, 

I  see  no  one  else, 

I  have  known  Him  now, 

I  know  no  one  else, 

This  is  my  sweet  vocation, 

Be  it  now  as  He  wills, 

The  Sweetest! 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL     141 

(5) 

I  don  the  Royal  Robes; 
The  Five  now  till  my  lands, 
No  more  treason  stirs  in  my  soil, 
All  is  Peace,  Plenty  and  Prosperity ! 
No  winds  blow  against  me,  all  is  in  fair  direction, 
He  is  now  mine ! 

The  Sweetest! 

(6) 
If  I  could  sacrifice,  in  a  minute  I  would  live  and  die  a 

thousand  times  for  Him,  and  do  this  for  ever; 
O  Gods!  sacrifice  me  at  His  feet  endlessly. 
It  is  He  who  has  decorated  the  ruins;   the  ruins  of  me, 
now    raised    high,    they    become    my    Sultan's 
palace. 

Sacrifice  me  at  His  feet  endlessly, 
The  Sweetest! 

(7) 

He  loves  me,  I  do  nothing  : 
He  sends  me  all  I  wish,  I  do  nothing: 
He  cares  for  me  and  mine,  I  do  nothing: 
He  gives  me  the  loaf  of  bread  that  is  enough  for  all  my 
hunger,  I  do  nothing  for  Him, 
The  Sweetest! 

(8) 

Nothing  concerns  me  now,  neither  care  nor  confusion, 
If  He  be  my  concern! 
The  Naming  Him  is  all! 
The  Sweetest! 


H2     SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

(9) 

I  have  tied  His  love  in  the  knots  of  my  garment, 
I  have  fastened  them  with  my  own  hands, 
I  am  happy  now,  all  Peace  is  mine! 
Planted  by  His  own  Hands,  the  garden  of  Nam  grows 
in  me,  its  blossoms  fill  me  up  to  my  very  lips; 
The  Sweetest! 

(10) 

He  but  put  His  hand  on  my  forehead, 
And  I  saw  that  all  was  Divine  ! 
I  was  bound  in  a  vision  ! 
The  Sweetest! 


I  am  now  in  the  Temple  of  Truth, 

The  Master  chose  me,  I  know  not  how  ! 

I  would  fain  wash  His  feet  if  He  come! 

I  would  fain  fan  Him  with  these  hands  if  He  come! 

I  would  fain  fall  at  His  feet  and  kiss  them  ! 

At  His  feet  again  and  again! 

If  He  come! 

The  Sweetest! 

(12) 

I  have  known  it  all  from  His  lips, 
He  gave  me  Himself  and  bathed  me  in  holiness, 
He  put  me  in  His  Boat: 
The  Boat  sails  to  the  Infinite!   we  sail  on! 
The  Sweetest  ! 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL     143 


The  whole  Creation  vibrates  with  prayer  ! 
Hark  !   The  prayers  rise  from  very  stones  ! 
They  call  the  Deliverer! 
The  Sweetest! 

(14) 

The  Kind  One  now  so  willeth, 
A  new  age  beginneth! 
Henceforth  no  one  will  injure  another! 
All  shall  live  here  in  Peace  Absolute. 
He  reigneth  here,  the  King  of  Love! 
The  Sweetest! 

(15) 

Jhin!  Jhin!  Jbin  !  it  raineth! 
Jhin  !   Jhin  !  Jhin  !  the  showers  of  Peace! 
Silence  delicious  !   mouths  all  filled  with  Honey  ! 
They  speak  who  speak  at  His  bidding, 
Endless  has  been  my  pride,  the  pride  of  being  His, 
I  have  moved  in  a  thousand  prides,  I  have  thought, 
all  this  is  His,  — 
The  Sweetest! 

(16) 

The  Saints  hunger  for  Him,  no  other  hunger  they  have! 
O  Giver  of  joy!  come! 

Fulfil  my  longings  now,  come  and  meet  me!! 
Now  spread  Thy  arms  and  receive  me, 
Receive  me,  my  Love,  in  Thy  embrace,  — 
The  Sweetest  ! 


144     SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

(17) 

I  looked  up  and  down  all  earth  and  heaven, 
I  saw  nothing  so  noble, 
All  space  is  filled  with  His  Glory! 
The  Sweetest! 

(18) 

I  am  the  champion-wrestler, 

He  maintains  me, 

With  Him,  as  His,  I  am  the  greatest  of  the  Great. 

The  ring  is  drawn  clear,  the  wrestlers  come,  the  audience 

sits  around, 
The  sport  begins. 
He  sits  and  sees ! 

The  Sweetest! 

(19) 

The  bands  strike,  the  pipes  play! 
The  wrestlers  strive;    how  they  recede  and  how  pace 

forward,   and  how  they  weave  with  steps   the 

semicircles ! 
I  have  thrown  them  down,  and  there  they  lie,  the  five 

young  wrestlers ! 
I  hastened  to  Him, 
He  patted  me  on  my  back! 
The  Sweetest! 

(20) 

The  guests  are  scattered  one  by  one,  they  go  each  their 
own  way, 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL     145 

Both  death  and  life  is  the  wrestling-ring,  one  for  them 
who  saw  Htm  not,  the  other  for  those  who  saw 
Him! 

The  Sweetest! 


The  lines  of  flesh  contain  Him  not, 
The  Transcendental  Good! 
I  see  Him  where  I  would, 
He  sweetens  the  lotus  of  Heart  with  Honey. 
He  inspires  me  with  His  breath. 
The  Sweetest! 

(22) 

Life  on  life  did  roll  for  this  ! 

He  has  cut  my  bonds,  —  the  strings  that  bound  me! 

Sweeter  the  slumber,  and  sweeter  the  awakening! 

The  dawn  of  freedom  breaks  ! 

Say  Guru  Nanak! 

The  Sweetest! 


DHANASRI  MAHLA  V.,  ASHTPADI 
II 


THE  Wheel  of  Birth  and  Death  turns! 

All  creation  whirls  along  it  in  utter  confusion, 

Ah  !  happy  am  I  being  born  a  man  ! 


146     SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

0  dear  Saint!   put  Thy  hand  on  me  and  save  me,  save 

me  from  the  utter  misery  of  this  endless  wheel. 
By  Thy  Love,  kindle  in  me  the  Divine. 

1  have    travelled    through   many    births   and    deaths, 

and  have  not  felt  yet  any  ground  beneath  my 

feet. 

Give  me  Thy  service  to  do, 
Let  me  sit  at  Thy  feet, 
O  Saint!    through  Thy  life  show  me  the  way  to  my 

Gobind,  my  Beloved. 


I  linger  still,  among  material  things, 

J  make  a  thousand  efforts,   but   pass   my  days  still 

dwelling  here, 
Ah!  how  to  get  rid  of  this  insatiable  sense  ? 

0  Gods  !  a  meeting  with  the  Saint,  pray  ! 

He  will  wash  me  free  of  this  misery  and  incarnadine 
my  soul  with  the  Bride-blushes,  as  the  Bride 
meets  her  Lord. 

Oh  !  the  showers  of  roses  that  his  look  would  rain  on  me  !  ! 

(3) 

1  have  read  all  the  Vedas,  but  the  dual  sense  is  still 

unextinguished,  my  doubts  are  still  undispelled. 
The  five  desires  that  live  within  know  not  for  a  moment 

any  peace. 
If  He  were  to  sprinkle  the  Nectar  of  Nam  on  my  scorched 

heart,  the  dry  ground  would  become  green, 
Ah!    the  Saint  I  should  become,  —  freed  from  Illusion, 

if  He  so  favoured  me. 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL     147 

(4) 

I  have  bathed  in  sacred  rivers, 

But  more  and  more  clung  to  me  the  rust  of  Self; 

This  tyrant  bows  not  even  to  holy  pilgrimage! 

When  shall  my  Saint  come  to  me  ? 

When  shall  that  cooling  Peace  be  mine, 

And  my  Saint  wash  my  soul  in  fire  of  Divine  Knowledge  ? 

Ah !  when  ? 

(5) 

I  have  tried  all  modes  of  thought; 

My  mind  yet  believes  not,  my  reason  sees  not, 

I  have  been  washing  pure  the  outside;  but  all  was  dark 

within, 
The  darkness  may  be  pure,  washed  and  holy;    but  by 

that  it  cannot  win  the  dawn, 
Only  if  I  found  a  man!  as  good  as  God,  a  man  all  dyed 

in  Divine  Glory. 
He  shall  wash  transparent  my  dust-laden  mind. 

(6) 

If  I  see  Him  not,  in  vain  is  even  virtue,  in  vain  is 

learning: 
Only  if  I  meet  my  Lord,  the  soul  wakes  to  the  eternal 

music  of  His  Praise ! 
Through  the  dear  Master's  kindness,  I  see  the  Real  face 

to  face! 

(7) 

What  worth  are  the  forced  resolutions,  the  ascetic  vows 
of  Piety,  to  curb  Self  down,  just  under  a  weight ! 


148     SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

Not  a  seed  of  this  hot-house  growth  is  to  be  reckoned, 
All  is  still  in  the  dark ! 
The  light  of  Heaven  is  far  away! 

All  that  follow  the  Self  are  groping  in  the  dark,  still  in 
the  great  world-illusion! 

(8) 

If  indeed  there  be  a  Bestower  of  Divine  Bliss ! 
He  shall  inspire  in  us  with  his  lips  the  Divine  Life ! 
Then  the  light  of  Heaven  shall  shine ! 

The  day  breaks !  and  all  is  glory ! 

Man  is  bathed  in  His  Light,  it  is  Beatitude: 

This  life  kindles  another  life. 

It  is  He  who  cuts  the  bonds  of  life-in-illusion, 

And  sets  the  soul  revolving  through  the  firmament  of 

Nam, 

There  is  eternal  Peace! 
The  fearlessness  of  the  Divine  is  attained. 
The  life  of  Peace  Eternal  throbs  in  the  feet  of  the  Saint ! 
I  have  now  met  my  Saint ! 
The  pilgrimage  of  life  is  fruitful ! 
All  is  over !  The  goal  is  reached ! 


Ill 

(i) 

He  has  chosen  to  honour  His  slave! 
It  is  His  Pleasure.  He  favours  me! 
What  are  our  little  wisdoms,  and  our  little  powers  ? 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL     149 

He  knows  all  things,  He  knows ! 

His  Glory  spreads  around  us,  an  infinite  expanse!! 

All  call  on  Him ! ! 

He  put  His  hands  on  me  and  I  am  saved!! 

He  waited  not,  nor  did  He  think  of  my  good  and  bad, 

He  has  chosen  to  honour  His  slave. 

(2) 

He  protects  me  in  His  Embrace,  lest  a  hot  wind  touch 

me. 
How  my  flesh  cried  for  this  and  how  my  soul  rolled  in 

frenzy ! ! 

God  is,  for  I  am  now  in  His  Embrace! 
He  is  the  King  of  Kings,  the  Master  of  Masters!! 
I  live  by  Naming  Him\ 
He  has  chosen  to  honour  His  slave. 


JAI  JAVANTI  MAHLA  V 
IV 

(0 
EVEN  if  I  have  vexed  Thee,  bend  on  me  Thy  Look  of 

favour! 

Perished  be  it  if  I  look  to  another. 
Let  me  leave  not  hold  of  the  edge  of  Thy  Garment; 
Pray  I  may  always  have  the  sense  of  dependence  on 

Thy  Favour. 
Ever  Glorious!    my  Gem!    my  Beloved,  my  Sustainer, 

my  All! 

N 


150     SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

Oh!  how  shall  I  call  Thee! 

Thou  art  my  Friend,  my  Companion,  my  Saviour,  my 

Love,  I  cannot  name  Thee. 
When  Thou  art  by  me,  I  am  rich,  my  joy  and  pride 

know  no  bounds; 
By  coming  to  me,  Thou  honourest  me,  me  O  Lord! 

the  poorest. 

(2) 

To-day  Thou  art  with  me ! 

And  how  Thou  smilest,  the  smile  of  forgiving  kindness, 
Thou  smilest  on  me,  me,  the  poorest ! 

O  happy  one!  if  I  then  have  Thy  favour,  so  favour  me 
that  I  see  none  else  but  Thee,  depend  on  none 
else  but  Thee. 

Pour  into  these — these  opened  lips — this  Honey! 
Pray  that  I  may  keep  it  for  ever  in  my  heart!! 

Beneath  Thy  sheltering  arms,  pray  that  my  quivering 
lips  may  close  in  a  holy  kiss  upon  Thy  Flower- 
Feet!  May  I  stay,  holding  the  edge  of  Thy 
garment,  O  King,  for  ever  and  ever! 

(3) 

These  feet  of  mine,  pray,  they  tread  Thy  path  of  Love 

for  ever  and  ever. 
These  eyes  of  mine,  pray,  they  look  at  Thee  for  ever  and 

ever. 
Favour  me  so  that  these  ears  of  mine  hear  but  Thy 

Praise   Eternal. 

(4) 
Myriad  is  beauty,  but  nothing  can  match  a  single  Hair 

of  my  Beloved! 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL     151 

Thou  art  the  Maker  of  all,  the  Beautiful  Master!! 
Ah!  who  can  speak  of  Thy  Beauty;  beyond  all  paintings 
of  thought  and  feelings. 

(5) 

For  a  moment,  only  for  a  moment,  Thou  art  with  me 
to-day. 

I  know  Thou  hast  devotees  by  millions  and  all  are  fairer 
than  myself,  all  are  more  innocent,  more  beautiful, 
more  loving  and  sweeter,  but  to-day  Thou  art 
mine,  though  only  for  a  moment,  only  for  a 
moment. 

Before  Thou  departest,  look  once  again  on  me,  just  for 
a  moment  and  just  for  a  moment. 

Be  before  my  eyes  and  let  me  look  at  Thee  and  let  my 
eyes  drink  the  kind  Glance  of  Thine;  just  for  a 
moment,  my  Beloved !  for  a  moment ! 

Be  with  me  and  let  me  be  with  you!  Sustain,  sustain 
my  frail  life  and  hold  me  up  in  Thy  arms  lest  I 
faint  and  fall,  and  let  this  be  for  a  moment,  my 
Beloved !  for  a  moment ! 

(6) 

Him  at  whose  very  sight  my  throbbing  heart  is  at  rest 
and  my  noon-scorched  mind  finds  a  shade! 

0  mother!  how  can  I  forget  Him  of  whom  everything 

here  reminds  me. 

1  did  but  fall  on  the  ground,  before  Him, 
I  fell  like  a  corpse, — a  love-slain  one. 

Of  Himself  He  came  and  lifted  me  from  the  dust.  I  had 
no  adornment  but  dust  in  my  hair,  dust  on  my 
hands  and  feet ! 


152     SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

A  dusty  beggar-maiden,  He  made  His  own; 

Such  has  been  the  fruit  of  the  true  Love  planted  in  my 

heart  by  my  Saint. 
My  Saint  has  witnessed  my  wedding-day! 


(SORATH  BANI  BHAGATAN,  KABEER) 


(NAMA  had  a  hut.  The  hut  was  burnt  by  accident. 
God  came  with  His  masons  and  put  up  a  new  hut  for 
Nama.  People  knew  Nama  as  a  common  poor  man 
while  he  was  a  prophet.  To  this  incident  the  following 
dialogue  refers.) 

The  neighbour's  wife  : 

Nama!  How  beautiful  is  the  new  thatching  of  thy  hut! 
Please  tell  me  who  has  covered  thee  with  this  wonderful 

thatching  of  golden  straws. 
I  would  offer  him  double  the  wages  you  have  offered. 

I  too  want  a  thatching  like  that,  so  handsome! 

Nama : 

0  sweet  woman ! 

1  cannot  tell  thee  who  made  this  hut  for  me,  nor  can  I 

bring  Him  to  thee! 
Seest  thou  not  the  maker  of  this  roof  is  here,  there,  and 

everywhere  ? 

This  mason  needs  no  wages,  He  works  for  Love. 
Be  His,  He  will  build  thy  hut! 
Be  His  and  no  one  else's. 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL     153 

MAJH  MAHLA  V 
VI 


THAT  season  is  spring  when  they  are  with  Thee, 

That  doing  is  doing  when  they  sweat  in  labour  for  Thy 

Love  ; 
That  heart  is  heart  wrhere  shineth  the  Light  of  Thy 

Presence, 

Thou  art  the  common  Father  of  us  all, 
In  Thy  storehouse  there  is  plenty  for  us  all, 
He  who  owns  the  jewel  of  Love  given  by  Thee  is  great, 
All  sit  at  Thy  door  and  wait  for  Thy  Gifts. 


(2) 

Thy  life  beats  in  every  heart  and  each  one  holds  by  Thee 
as  if  Thou  wert  his  and  none  else's. 

This  is  Thy  great  family,  here  each  one  has  his  share  and 
each  one  his  joy. 

(3) 

All  mysterious  is  Thy  life-play;  here  is  the  Saint  and 
His  art  of  sending  blossoms  up  in  the  sky  sup- 
ported on  the  thin  frail  rays  of  life, 

And  there  is  the  wheel  of  birth  and  death  that  turns. 

The  same  pulse  beats  in  all  seen  things. 


154     SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

GAURI  MAHLA  V 
VII 

(0 

0  MY  mother!   how  can  I  aspire  to  see  my  Beloved  ? 
How  can  I  approach  Him  who  gives  me  life, 

Nor  beauty,  nor  wisdom  nor  power! 

1  am  a  poor  beggar  girl,  a  stranger  come  from  afar, 

thread-bare  my  garments ! 

Nor  youth,  nor  pride,  nor  glow  of  life,  how  can  I  aspire 
to  see  Him  ? 

Even  I,  I  have  been  wandering  for  Him,  I  have  no  other 
concern  in  life,  I  only  wish  I  could  but  have  a 
glimpse  of  Him, — even  I,  with  my  hair  dis- 
hevelled, my  garments  outworn,  and  myself 
almost  naked  in  poverty,  even  I  search  for  Him. 

I  am  thirsty  and  no  waters  quench  my  thirst,  I  am 
hungry  and  no  bread  can  appease  my  hunger, 

But,  my  mother!  how  can  I  aspire  for  Him,  so  poor,  so 
frail  and  so  humble  ? 

(2) 

Happy,    happy    news!     Mother!     the    news    from    the 

invisible!! 

In  Love  of  the  Saint  I  have  found  Him. 
My  thirst  is  quenched,  I  now  live  at  the  Fountain, 
I  now  live  at  the  Fountain,  mother! 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL     155 

KANRA  MAHLA  II.  (Guru  Angad  Dev) 
VIII 

(I) 

How  can  I  praise  Thee  who  has  given  me  life. 

Thou  hast  bought  me  with  Thy  Love  and  Kindness, 
bought  me  —  a  slave,  but  not  by  gold,  hast  bought 
me  a  slave,  flesh  and  bone,  Thine  for  ever. 

Thou  hast  drawn  me  to  Thee,  O  Roseate  Beloved  ! 

I  am  a  sacrifice  in  Thy  Glorious  Sight  ever  and  ever, 

Thou  art  the  King  and  I  Thy  humble  slave, 

Thou  art  kind  for  ever  and  ever. 


How  can  I  regale  Thee,  Thou  Regaler  ? 

How  can  I,  I,  render  any  service  to  Thee  ?  Thou  servest 

all! 
How  can  I,  I,  have  a  glimpse  of  Thee  ?  Thou  seest  all  ! 

0  Immeasurable  !    I  thirst  for  the  Lotus  of  Thy  feet, 

1  ask  again  and  again  so  shamelessly!    touch  my  lips 

with  the  dust  of  the  flower-feet  of  Thy  Saint. 


SARANG  MAHLA  V 
IX 

W 

O  mother!   how  can  I  live  without  my  Beloved. 
When  He  goes  away  I  cannot  live  in  this  empty  house 
of  clay. 


156     SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

Without  Him,  what  is  life,  what  is  joy,  what  is  land, 

house  or  cities  ? 
O  mother  !  how  can  I  live  without  my  Beloved  ? 


O  Saints  of  God!   favour  me  now,  and  help  me  to  sing 

His  auspicious  arrival! 
O  Saints!   put  your  holy  feet  on  me,  put  the  pollen  of 

your  flower-hearts  into  my  eyes;    0,  pray  that 

I  may  see  the  Divine. 

(3) 

Woe  be  to  us  if  we  sacrifice  not  ourselves  in  the  service 
of  those  who  unite  us  with  our  Beloved. 


GAURI  BAIRAGAN  MAHLA  IV.  (Guru  Ram  Das) 
X 

(0 
EVERY  day  I  rise  with  the  same  hope,  every  day  I  have 

the  same  thirst,   every  day   I   have  the  same 

longing;  to  be  with  my  Beloved. 
They   who   have   these   Love-wounds   understand   my 

days  pierced  with  Pain  of  Love. 
Oh!  I  love  Him! 

(2) 

Great  is  my  Master,  at  whose  feet  I  lie  as  a  sacrifice, 
It  is  He  who  has  united  me  with  my  Creator  after  such 

a  long  time  of  separation. 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL     157 

0  my  Beloved !   I  a  sinner  take  refuge  in  Thee,  I  fall  at 

Thy  door;  now  favour  me. 

(3) 

1  cannot  count,  numberless  are  my  shortcomings, 

But  what  of  these  little  reckonings,  when  Thou  art  so 

kind  ? 
Forgive  me  and  favour  me  now. 

(4) 

Not  as  a  Saint  but  as  a  criminal  I  stand  at  Thy  door, 
Pray!   save  me  in  the  company  of  Thy  Saints. 
Give  me  the  gift  of  Naming  Thee. 

(5) 

0  my  true  Lord! 
How  can  I  praise  Thee! 

As  I  ope  my  lips  and  say  "  Glory  to  God,"  the  whole  of 

me  is  lost  in  wonder. 
Could  there  be  another  so  kind  as  my  Guru  and  could 

there  be  another  so  fallen  as  myself  ? 
Ah!  how  has  He  rescued  me! 

(6) 

My  Master  is  all  for  me, 

1  pour  at  His  feet  my  affections — affections  of  a  son  to 

a   mother,    affections   of   a   friend   to    a   friend, 
affections  of  a  sweetheart  to  her  lover, 
At  His  feet ! 


158     SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

(7) 
Had  I  not  met  my  Master,  miserable  was  my  lot;   He 

knew  it  and  He  took  pity, 
I  was  a  beggar,  a  forlorn  wanderer  of  streets,  trodden 

under  many  a  pair  of  feet,  none  inquiring  of  me, 

nor  of  my  misery. 
The  Master  picks  up  a  worm  like  me,  and  transmutes 

it  into  the  King  of  things, 
Great  is  Guru  Nanak,  the  Saviour, 
I  met  Him  and  all  distress  is  over. 


XI 

(0 
The  life  in  me  gets  attracted  by  the  glitter  of  gold  and 

flesh-attractions  of  man-life. 
I  am  attached  to  my  horses;    I  am  concerned  for  my 

prosperity;   I  find  joy  in  all  those  things  that  are 

mine. 
If  I  love  not  my  Divine  Husband,  what  am  I  and  what 

are  these  things  ? 

Without  Him  I  cannot  have  my  freedom,  my  God!! 
Such  are  my  base  inclinations,  such  are  my  vain  pur- 
suits, being  Thine,  I  fail  to  be. 

Thou  art  kind,  forgive  me  all  my  misdeeds  and  strayings. 
I  have  no  beauty,  nor  long  descent  to  boast  of,  nor 

culture,  nor  art, 
I  bear  no  blossom  of  Nam  in  my  hands,  ah!    I  have 

not  even  loved  Thee,  O  God ! ! 
With  no  accomplishment  then,  with  what  face  can  I 

approach  Thee  or  aspire  after  Thee  ? 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL     159 

(2) 

But  my  Guru  has  chosen  me, 

And  ushered  me  into  Thy  Divine  Presence, 

I  come  to  know  Thou  hast  given  me  my  all,  body  and 

soul,  Thy  waters  I  drink,  it  is  Thy  meat  I  eat, 

and   Thou   weavest   me   the   garments    I   wear; 

above  all,  Thou  givest  the  joys  of  life  and  the 

higher  sense  of  joy. 
I  know  now,  he  is  a  beast  who  does  not  remember  his 

Maker. 

(3) 
Thou  art  the  All-Knower,  Thou  penetratest  the  inmost 

of  every  heart. 
What  we  Thy  creatures  do  or  propose, — it  is  all  Thy 

doing. 

What  Thou  sayest  cometh  to  pass. 

Guru  Nanak  has  opened  a  store,  He  distributes  Thy  Nam. 
The  price  ? 

Life,  the  whole  of  it ! ! 
Say  Guru  Nanak,  the  Sweetest!! 


SARANG  MAHLA  V.  CHANT 
XII 

CO 

O  SAINTS!   tell  me  how  does  my  Beloved  look? 
Give  me  an  idea  of  His  Beauty! 

Take  me  and  all  that  is  mine,  but  pray,  give  me  the 
news  from  high! 


160     SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

Give  me  the  news  from  high,  O!  how  my  Beloved  looks ! 
How  does  he  come,  and  when  ? 

(2) 

Sweet  are  the  steps  with  which  He  enters  my  house, 
Each  hair  of  mine  is  nectar-laved  in  ecstasy,  there  is 

the    ambrosial    flow    through    bone,    blood    and 

flesh! 

He  is  the  Infinite,  the  Divine  Person. 
He  is  the  sweet,  sweet  death,  He  lives  in  every  heart ! 
Ah!    how  can  I  tell  thee  how  He  looketh,  how  can  I 

give  thee  His  likeness  ? 
The  news-bearer  is  lost  in  His  all-enchanting  vision  and 

has  no  self  to  return  to  say  how  He  looketh! 
Maiden!  how  can  I  give  thee  His  likeness! 


READINGS  FROM  "  SLOKAS  " 


READINGS  FROM  "  SLOKAS  " 
(GURU   TEG   BAHADUR) 

I 

LIFE  has  passed  in  vain, 

Unfilled  with  the  song  of  His  praise,  the  heart  is  run  all 

dry!! 
O  me !  To  be  as  fish  without  water  in  thy  love  and  thy 

longing  for  thy  Lord,  thy  God. 

II 

Is  not  life  a  serious  thing  ? 

Is  not  death  there  ? 

No  other  way  of  escape,  but  love. 

Ill 

Youth  has  gone, 

Old  age  makes  the  traveller  infirm; 

Life  is  passing! 

O  me!  Love  is  not  yet  in  sight! 

IV 

Old  age! 

Dimmed  are  all  senses, 
Death  is  at  the  door, 

The  man  is  still  mad,  busy  about  nothing. 

163 


164     SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 


He  is  He  who  gave  thee  all  this, 

This  beautiful  garment  for  thy  soul; 

This  fair  plenty  and  prosperity; 

Ah!  thou  hast  never  thought  of  Him  since, 

Now  is  it  not  all  death  and  ruin  ? 

Too  late  perhaps ! 

VI 

His  Nam  is  thy  beatitude. 

Awake  then!  for  the  Time  is  fleeting. 

VII 

The  Beloved  is  in  every  heart  that  beats : 
So  have  the  Saints  proclaimed; 
Surrender  then. 

VIII 

Whom  joy  elates  not,  nor  sorrow  depresses, 

Whom  the  pride  uplifts  not,  in  whom  resides  not  the 

sense  of  owning  aught, 
He  is  God  in  flesh. 

IX 

Who  fears  none,  nor  in  others  inspires  fear, 
He  knows. 

X 

He  is  lucky, 

Who  dons  the  Robe  of  Self-Denial. 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL     165 


XI 

When  meum  and  tuum  is  gone, 
The  Divine  is  in  the  heart. 


XII 

He  who  has  seen — it  is  He  who  does — 
And  seeing,  has  lost  his  "  I  "; 
He  is  free. 

XIII 

The  deliverer  from  pain, 
The  lifter  of  veils, 
In  Kaliyuga  x  is  Nam, 
All  winnings  are  here. 

XIV 

It  is  a  dream, 

Know  nothing  else  is  real  but  one  He. 

XV 

Mortals  are  tossed  on  the  waves  of  the  sea  of  struggle, 

all  for  greed  of  lust  and  things, 
Perhaps  one  in  a  million  thinks  of  Him. 

XVI 

They  make  great  efforts  for  advancement  in  this  world, 
But  life  is  barren  without  His  Love. 

1  This  iron  age :  this  black  age.    (Teg  Bahadur  was  martyred.) 
O 


1 66     SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 


XVII 

He  who  is  His,  is  His  day  and  night. 

Know  Him  aye!   even  as  He, 

For  nothing  divides  Him  from  His. 


XVIII 

To  be  my  Master's, 

And  as  faithful  as  the  dog  is  to  his  own. 

XIX 

All  shall  die! 

That  which  cometh  must  go  to-day  or  to-morrow, 
Up  then!    on  these  shifting  ruins,  raise  aloft  the  song 
of  His  Praise. 


READINGS  FROM  "  CHANTS  " 


READINGS  FROM  "  CHANTS  " 
BY  GURU   RAM  DAS   MAHLA  IV 

I 

(i) 

I  AM  bathed  by  Hari  Nam, 
The  nectar  streams  through  my  eyes, 
My  mind  melts  away! 
AJ1  is  Love. 
My  King  of  Heaven! 

On  the  touchstone  of  Heaven  He  rubbed  me, 
There  was  the  Streak  of  Pure  Gold ! 
My  mind  and  flesh  are  dyed  in  the  ruby-dye  of  the  Lips 

of  my  Beloved! 
How  good  is  life!  How  good! 

(2) 

Who  shoots  at  me  ? 

Ah!    These  arrows  steel-tipped  with  keen,  keen  edges! 

My  heart  lies  wounded,  arrow-pierced! 

Ah!   These  are  the  words  from  the  lips  of  my  Beloved, 

My  King  of  Heaven ! 

Of  this  beautiful  death  in  Love,  he  knows  who  loves. 

(3) 

I  sought  His  shelter, 
He  gave  me  life. 
My  King  of  Heaven ! 

169 


1 70     SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

By  my  dear  Master,  my  Holy  One,  I  found  my  God. 

To  love  Him  is  all  my  craving  now. 

My  mind,  aye,  my  flesh  has  blossomed  up  in  thousand- 
tinted  flowers ! 

A  sea  of  blossoms  surges  in  me! 

By  the  love  of  the  Saint,  the  love  of  God  has  now  been 
mine. 

(4) 

O  King  of  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven !  O  Great  Benefactor ! 

Pray,  let  me  take  refuge  in  Thy  Naml 

Pour  into  my  opened  lips  this  Honey! 

Thou  hast  covered  my  shame; 

Great  is  Thy  Vow  of  Love ! 

My  Saviour! 


II 


(0 

After  long,  long,  weary  tossing, 

I  have  found  Him  now,  My  King  of  Heaven! 

In  the  Fort  of  Gold,  in  Life,  is  He. 

1  bear  His  diamond-cuts  in  me. 

My  Man  of  Heaven ! 

How  brimful  am  I  of  sweet,  sweet  joy! 

He  is  Goodness,  Superb,  Supreme. 

(2) 

I  stand  for  ever  on  the  roadside,  waiting! 
Yet  unblossomed,  my  maiden  youth  waits  for  Him  on 
the  roadside. 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL     171 

My  Holy  One  put  me  on  the  Road  to  Love; 

And  I  go  on  Naming  Him  \ 

My  Holy  One  has  burnt  up  the  poison  of  Self. 

My  Holy  One  put  me  here  on  the  Road  to  Love; 

And  I  go  on  Naming  Him  \ 

My  meat  and  drink  is  Naming  Html 

And  I  go  for  ever  on  the  Road  to  Love. 

I  stand  for  ever  on  the  roadside,  waiting. 

Still  unblossomed,  my  maiden  youth  waits  for  Him, 

My  King  of  Heaven, — come! 

(3) 

For  long  have  I  been  now  away  from  Thee, 

Now  come  and  meet  me,  my  Beloved ! 

Come!  My  King  of  Heaven!  Come! 

Unbearable  any  longer  is  this  pain  of  separation; 

My  flesh  cries  and  flames  up  my  heart, 

My  eyes  stream  with  tears ; 

Unbearable  any  longer  is  this  pain  of  separation; 

These  love-tremors  shake   my  soul  with  the   music   of 

sweetness. 
Now  come  and  meet  me,  my  Beloved! 


READINGS  FROM  "  SLOKAS 


READINGS  FROM  "  SLOKAS  " 
BY   BHEGET    KABIR   JI 

I 

THE  Death,  The  Death, 
All  are  afraid  of  Death: 
I  am  right  happy,  this  is  the  way  to  the  Beloved! 

II 

Have  you  got  the  Divine  Wealth? 

Be  silent,  ope  not  the  mouth  of  thy  purse: 

No  mart  here  for  this,  no  critic,  no  buyer,  no  price : 

In  silence  pass  away,  0  Man  of  God! 

Ill 

Give  them  thy  love,  who  are  of  thy  own  ilk, 

Of  what  worth  are  these  Pundits,  Kings  and  Lords  ? 

IV 

They  die  and  die  again,  but  know  not  how  to  die? 
Why  not  die  that  death  once,  that  they  may  not  die 
again. 

V 

Fast  as  grass,  hair  burns. 
And  flesh  and  bone  as  fast  as  wood; 
The  thought  seizes  me,  the  World  might  burn  as  fast. 

175 


176     SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 

VI 

Laugh  not  at  any  one; 
Be  not  proud  even  of  goodness  : 
Thy  boat  is  yet  on  the  sea, 
Who  knows  what  may  happen  ? 

VII 

I  did  nothing,  nor  shall  I  do  anything,  nor  ever  can  I; 

I  know  not  what  my  God  did  for  me: 

My  fame  spreads  far  and  wide. 

The  world-lips  pipe  "  Kabir .'  "  "  Kabir  !  "  l 

VIII 

I  am  His  Dog, 
My  Name  is  Mutia, 2 

The  collar  is  here  and  the  string  in  His  Hand, 
I  go  whither  he  takes  me ! 

IX 

"  The  stroke  of  Death  is  painful, 
I  cannot  bear  it,"  so  I  cried! 

A  Saint  came  near  me,  he  wrapped  me  up  away  in  his 
garments. 

X 

What  can  I  do,  if  He  helpeth  me  not, 
Whichever  branch  of  the  Tree  I  touch,  it  breaks  and 
falls  off. 

1  His  own  name.  *  A  pearl. 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL     177 


XI 

Let  the  wealth  go,  if  it  will, 

Let  the  life  go,  if  it  will, 

But  leave  not  the  Beloved, 

Let  not  go  the  holds  of  Love, 

Let  me  be  wrapped  in  the  lotus-corolla  of  His  Feet. 


XII 

The  V\nd\  All  its  strings  are  broken! 
Poor  Final  Rest  for  ever! 
Even  the  Player  has  gone! 


XIII 

O  SbankhA  \ l  Be  with  thy  Mother-sea ! 
Or  else,  at  every  break  of  dawn, 
Thou  shalt  be  a  scream,  a  wandering  wail 
From  door  to  door  of  every  shrine! 


XIV 

Go  the  way  the  Saint  is  going; 
There  is  good  in  it. 
Mere  seeing  him  is  Purity; 
His  closer  contact  is  Nam. 

1  The  Conchshell  that  is  blown  in  the  Hindu   temples  every 
morning. 


178     SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL 


XV 

Go  not  near  a  Sakta,  a  man  broken  off  from  the  Life 

Divine, 
For  the  mere  touch  of  soot  blackens. 

XVI 

I  am  the  perfume  now,  I  am  the  Flower, 
The  bees  come  round  me  in  number. 
Strange!    but  it  is  true;    the  more    they  love  Kabir, 
the  greater  grows  their  affection  for  God. 

XVII 

Be  as  a  pebble  on  the  roadside, 

But  even  a  pebble  kills  a  bird. 

Not  a  pebble  then,  O  Man  of  God ! 

Be  as  the  dust  on  earth, 

But  even  the  dust  annoys,  it  flies. 

Not  the  dust  then,  O  Man  of  God ! 

Be  as  water,  all  flowing,  one  level, 

But  even  the  water  has  its  temperatures. 

Not  as  water  then! 

Unlike  anything  else,  be  as  God,  O  Man  of  God! 

XVIII 

Where  is  reality,  there  is  right, 
Where  is  shadow,  there  is  wrong, 
Where  is  lust,  there  is  death, 
Where  is  forgiveness,  there  is  God. 


SISTERS  OF  THE  SPINNING  WHEEL     179 


XIX 

That  is  the  path  of  Learning! 

The  crowds  follow  the  Pundit ! 

My  path  is  different,  it  runs  up  to  these  heights! 

I  am  on  the  Hill  named  God ! 


J_«rCKVORTH 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

405  Hilgard  Avenue,  Los  Angeles,  CA  90024-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


DEC  101998 


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